Living in the Shadows: IC, Jan 15th-21st Options

[Mister Juan]

12:34:31 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Underground Parking Garage, Ludmilla's Workshop, Everett, Seattle, UCAS

Sitting, lonely, in her car, Ludmilla's fingers were drumming nervously on the dashboard. She had been sitting in the underground parking lot, in the dark, in silence, for some time now. Five times now she had dialed half way through Mikhail, only to disconnect the call in a hurry. Every single time she thought about hearing his voice, she became uneasy and nervous. As ironic as it might have seen, Ludi felt like and unfaithful wife calling in to inform her husband of the other man she was taking to bed. Cursing herself one last time, she dialed... completely.

[grendel]

12:35:02 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

The line rang three times before connecting. Mikhail's rich baritone sounded over the line, filling Ludi with a sense that perhaps there was a way out of this mess.

"Ah, sweet Ludi, I'm glad you called, I was just thinking about how I'd like to see you tonight."

[Mister Juan]

12:35:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Hearing Mikhail voice echo inside the tiny sedan filled Ludmilla with an array of mixed feelings. She had played dozens of senarios in her head, and yet, when she came down to the wire, all the well rehearsed phrases she had planned evaporated in thin air.

“I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier... I've been really busy.... I know it's no excuse...�

She swallowed, hard, rubbing her hands togheter to warm them up.

“I'd really like to see you tonight to... I've got some things I need to tell you...�

[grendel]

12:35:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Mikhail chuckles.

"I can only imagine, sweet Ludi. I'm certainly looking forward to our...conversations. Come to the club tonight. We can eat a little and drink a little before we talk."

Noise intrudes in the background for a moment, the sounds of vehicles on the road, before being tuned out by the transceiver's adaptive audio processing.

[Mister Juan]

12:35:13 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Seattle, UCAS

Ludmilla smiled sincerely, and lovingly... a smile no one could see but herself.

“I've missed you Miki... I... I'll talk to you later.�

Without adding a word, she hung up, and started up the car. It was time to face the music.

[Mister Juan]

12:55:01 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery - Seattle, UCAS

She had spent a few minutes parked across the street from the Bakery, finishing her cigarette, breathing in the fumes from the cloud that now hung in her small car. Through fingerless gloves, she held the cigarette to her mouth, closing her eyes as she pulled. What felt like fire filled her lungs, scratching the back of her throat on the way down. It was a sort of pain Ludmilla liked. No. She loved the feeling. Opening her eyes again, she reached for her chapka, pulling it firmly on her head. A few years back, when she had started with the Vory, a few of the guys had made fun of it. Giving them a full smile, she had greet the closest one to her with her famous right, breaking his nose and sending him to the ground. It had taken two of Miki's bodyguard to restrain her. No one ever made fun her hat after that...

Exiting her car, she flipped the cigarette to a puddle next to the curb. As she crossed the street, her head tucked between her shoulder to avoid the biting cold, she ran her game plan through her head. Go in. Tell them how to access the info. Get paid. Thank them. Smile. Get out. Ludi knew very well she was in her usual mood... which was a pretty rotten one. But she knew that today was not a day to pick a fight. She felt tired all over, and was aching not only to hug her daughter... but also to feel Mikhail's touch.

[grendel]

12:55:07 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Ludmilla checked right as she crossed the street, because even though there was no traffic now, she could hear the sound of an engine closing. Her glance down the street couldn't locate the vehicle, though, and it almost caused her to miss the shadowed figure that darted from the side of The Bakery. It was a common enough occurrence; street urchins making a raid for week old bread and muffins, but the way this figure moved told her it wasn't a gutter dweller. Adrenaline flooded her system as her combat reflexes took over. It had been a long time, but there are some things you never really forget. Her eyes zeroed in on the figure's long coat, combat boots, and the pistol held in the figure's hand.

[grendel]

12:55:08 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Unfortunately, Ludi's combat reflexes aren't quite fast enough. Her hand twitches towards the pistol holstered at her hip, even as the figure running from the Bakery glances towards her. The Ares Predator in his hand doesn't move, though, as she expected. The attack, when it comes, is from an entirely unanticipated direction. The high speed approaching engine noise washes over her, and motion out of the corner of her eye draws her attention in time to see a black clad rider on a Thundercloud racing motorcycle speeding down the street, a submachinegun leveled over the windscreen. Ludi throws herself forward even as the weapon fires, muzzle flashes bright in the shadowed street.

[grendel]

12:55:10 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Bullets slash through the air around her as Ludi dives forward towards the cover of the Bakery, sparking from the pavement. Her movement isn't quite quick enough, though, to keep her totally clear. She grunts in pain as one of the rounds hammers into her armor. Adrenaline erases what little pain there is, though, and as the rough pavement abrades her shoulder as she rolls to cover, she switches her wired reflexes live.

[grendel]

12:55:11 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Sliding to a stop against the wall, Ludi snatches her Predator IV from its holster, her palm interfacing immediately with the smartlink integral to the weapon. Bullets cracked close overhead, one from her left and a burst from the motorcycle rider in front of her. Instinctively she dropped to her knees, the rounds sparking from the brick overhead. Masonry dust puffed through the air and she narrowed her eyes, details of the rider jumping out in stark relief. Her pistol barked twice, recoil snapping through her wrist. Her first shot drew blood, she could tell by the way the rider shrunk to the side. But her second was wide of the mark, whining off into the shadows of the street.

[grendel]

12:55:17 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Another burst from the submachinegun punched through the alleyway around Ludi, bullets whining peevishly off into the darkness as they ricocheted from the concrete. She ducked to the side, trying to stay small, trying for the hard cover at the end of the alley. She wasn't quite quick enough, though, as the heavy rounds from the goon halfway into the car found their mark. The rounds were cheap ball, nothing cutting edge, and easily stopped by the ceramic splinter plates of Ludi's armor. The inertia still transferred, though, bruising impacts that staggered the slim Russian operator.

Ludi skidded around the corner, breathing hard. She was outgunned and she knew it. Her one chance was to keep them busy long enough for backup to come from The Bakery. No matter how loud the music was inside, no one could have missed the automatic gunfire from the street out front.

The sound of a motorcycle engine winding up into second drew her attention, though, and she eased back around the corner of the alleyway behind the sights of her Predator. The motorcycle and its rider was already gone, disappeared back down the street from whence they came. She was in time to watch the sedan peel out, though, fishtailing in its haste to depart the scene. Ludi let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding, sagging against the cool brick wall of the alley. The metabolism of adrenaline left her feeling dizzy and nauseated. Taking another deep breath she holstered her pistol. The Bakery exploded.

The brilliant white/orange light reached her first, a flash of pure energy dazzling in the dimness of the early morning. The shockwave was next, a thunder as physically punishing as the gunshots of seconds earlier. She shouted in shock and pain, thrown backwards by the force of the blast. Rolling to cover, she tucked herself into a ball as shrapnel, bits of concrete and steel, shotgunned down the alley. A choking cloud of smoke and grit enveloped her, and she groped blindly for her respirator, sucking greedily at the filtered air. Lurching to her feet, she staggered towards her car. Whatever happened, there wouldn't be any survivors that she could possibly help, and it would only hurt her cause to get caught by the Star now. She needed to get out of here and fast.

[Mister Juan]

12:58:22 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

It took Ludmilla a few blocks to realize her hands were shaking on the wheel. Her entire body felt as rigid as a plank of wood, and ached all over. Forcing herself to slow her breathing down, she quickly found herself unable to swallow. The adrenaline rush had been so strong, coupled with her new hyped nervous system, she felt like she was going to be sick. Temporary regaining motor control over her body, she eased her foot off the accelerator and turned the small sedan into a snow filled alley. She had barely cracked the door open that she doubled over, what little she had eaten making a hasty exit from her body. She coughed on and on, her abdomen contracting painfully until there was nothing left.

Panting, her vision darkening at the edges, Ludmilla wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The cold bit at her face, but at that very moment, it was the last of her worries. As she took a deep breath in to settle her nerves, the young russian woman winced in pain. She could tell not a single round had pierced her armored jacket... but she had probably broken at least one rib. Ludi couldn't tell how many hits she had taken, at least not yet. Hopefully, she wasn't bleeding internally.

With a grunt, she pulled herself back into the car, slamming the door shut. Arms crossed over the wheel, she closed her eyes and rested her head. In her mind, she was running every back. Every single millisecond. Every single detail. Her jaw twitched, realizing she had next to no idea what had just happened. She had simply reacted out of pure instinct. Facts. She had to concentrate on the facts.

First. Someone had just blown the Bakery sky high. And not just a regular organized crime arson attack. Someone had literally leveled the place. Second. She had been attacked by two men. No. One man and another person. There was no way she could tell if the biker had been a she or a he. Or even his metatype.

She straightened back in her seat, shakily pulling her pack of cigarette out.

They hadn't been waiting for her. If they were... they had done a piss poor job of ambushing her. So, her arrival was could have simply been a coincidence.

Ludi started to flick her lighter again and again, trying to get some fire out of it.

Looking over it all... all she could say for sure was that she had probably seriously injured one of them.

Cursing at her lighter, she threw it at the dashboard, where it bounced once and slid down under one of the seat. With a heavy sigh, Ludi's head fell on her arms again.

She had to get Lana. She had to call Mikhail. She had to warn someone.

Pushing the car out of the alley, she started towards Lana's school, dialing Miki's number at the same time.

[Morgannah]

13:55:49 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Another Motel 8 Parking Lot, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo's eyes were on the chauffeur from the moment the car door swung open. She watched the man's eyes widen as she flexed her foot, almost seeming to offer the supple suede boot for inspection, knowing that the deep charcoal hue only drew attention to a sinful length of leg that all but glowed with the unmistakable sheen of silken stockings. From the slender curve of an ankle, along the shapely turn of a perfect knee, to the merest hint of a garter encircling the satin skin of her upper thigh, the man's eyes were drawn inexorably higher....

The driver coughed nervously as she brought her other leg around and extended her hand, allowing him to help her from the luxurious confines of the sedan. Her skin was angel soft, and if her grip was a bit firm, it reaffirmed the fact that this woman, this vision in cashmere and leather, was very, very real. She might have murmured a "thank you" as she glided away, all legs, hips, and cascading blonde curls, but the man preferred to remember the encounter somewhat differently.

Cosmo could only smile; sometimes she had that effect.

[editing - work in progress]

This post has been edited by Morgannah: Nov 4 2009, 05:27 AM

[grendel]

13:58:26 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

With more than idle curiosity, Cosmo slotted the keycard in the maglock of the hotel room and pushed the door open. The space revealed within was already lit by the bedside lamp, and proved to be nearly identical to every other single occupancy low-rent hotel room she’d ever visited. Just inside the door was a small open closet with three empty wire hangers. Adjacent to that, in the room proper, was a double bed, flanked on one side by a nightstand with the lamp. Beneath the narrow, barred window on the far wall was a plain table and chair, both of chipped wooden veneer over a gray plastic core. Opposite the bed was a low dresser with the trideo unit on top, and next to that was the door leading to the small washroom, toilet, and shower.

What set the room apart from all others in her experience was the man asleep on the bed. He lay atop the covers, his hands folded over his chest, wearing only a pair of plain, navy blue sweat pants. In the time it took her to finish her visual inventory of the room and return her gaze to his face, she found him awake, watching her as she watched him. His eyes were a pale blue, sewn through with a silver tracery indicating artificial enhancement, an odd color given the dark mahogany of his skin.

He sat up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed closest to her. The move was stunningly fast, and instinct carried her back towards the door a step, her right hand seeking a weapon.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and the simple statement brought her up short. She could hear it in his voice, and, more importantly, she could see it in his eyes. This man carried no artifice. He really hadn’t meant to startle her, and was sorry for having done so. Cosmo favored him with a smile in return.

“My name is Eric, but people call me Shield. I was told to be here tonight at this time.” Shield gestures to the nightstand, where Cosmo can now see a familiar black plastic folder.

“I was given a key to this room, a key to a different room, and that,” he nods towards the gray garment bag hanging from the door to the bathroom. Cosmo sighs, although it is a distant comfort to know that she wasn’t the only puppet who’s strings the Kald pulled. She crossed the narrow confines of the room, glancing at her companion.

“What’s in it?”

Shield ran his left hand over his shaven scalp, preoccupied or confused, she wasn’t sure. The ring finger on his right hand began to flutter uncontrollably.

“Clothes, I think.”

Unzipping the tab revealed him to be correct, although calling the slate gray pinstripe suit of fine herringbone ‘clothes’ was like calling a Ferrari a ‘car’. The shirt provided was bone white, crisply pressed, with three narrow vertical pleats on either side of a row of white buttons. The tie and matching handkerchief provided were a brilliant metallic crimson silk, the perfect color to match the faint but noticeable pinstriping. Cosmo approved, especially since it meant Shield’s suit would perfectly complement her dress. She turned back to him and paused, seeing him clearly for the first time. That he was augmented was no question, but in contrast to the delicate work of his eyes, this was something else. His back was a mass of scars, some surgically neat, like those along his spine and radiating out from his shoulders. Others were vicious and jagged, dark pink slugs of keloid writhing beneath his skin. She sat next to him on the bed. He glanced over at her, then down at his finger. It stopped moving.

“What happened?” she asked.

Shield took a breath. “I killed a man. My fiancée was having an affair. He was the son of an MCT manager. They sent me to Death Valley Supermax for five years. Things…happened. They did things…to me. I don’t remember it all. One day I was taken from my cell and put on a truck. They drove me into the desert somewhere. I thought they were finally going to kill me. I was glad. Anything is better than being in prison. They didn’t, though. They dumped me outside a truck stop. There was a man there, a boy, really, who told me that they had freed me and that I now worked for them. They gave me clothes and a car and money, and told me to clean myself up and wait. That I would hear from them. That was six months ago.”

He shrugged, seemingly detached from the raw emotion bubbling through his words. His hand started to flutter again.

“I meet with them every other week or so, at different places. They always give me one of these.”

He pulled the black plastic folder from the table and opened it up, revealing one of the gold embossed keycards from the Millennium. Written on the card in black ink is a time: 2355. Cosmo raises an eyebrow. The card will get them access to one of the penthouse suites at the hotel.

[Morgannah]

14:02:09 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

It was easy to feel sympathy for the man beside her; nearly every piece of his story, from the experiments to the strange gaps in his memory and especially his 'rescue' by the Kalds, reminded her of her own situation.

'Helpless situation,' she corrected, 'but it will be over soon.'

Still, as badly as she felt for Shield, Cosmo couldn't help but wonder if they'd turn him against her before the end. Her shudder was quiet, delicate, and had nothing to do with the chill January air leaking through a cracked window seal.

"What sort of things did they put in the other folders?"

"Do you remember everything from .. before?" She asked as gently as she could, of course, but there was no way to get around it. If the man was dealing with memory loss, knowing the extent of it might help her determine how much of a risk she was taking tonight. There weren't any surgical scars on Shield's head but that didn't mean his mind was his own.

[grendel]

14:05:16 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Shield sighed, rubbing his hands together as if to warm them.

"They've mostly been contracts. I've killed for them. Two last month. Three before that. I think." Confusion clouded his face and he glanced at his wrist.

"What month is it?"

After a moment, Cosmo replied, "January."

The answer seemed to mollify him for a moment until a new variable clicked open. "What year?" he asked, hoarsly. Again, Cosmo paused before answering, reading his face closely.

"'63."

Shield put his head in his hands. "I can't remember straight anymore. The days just blend together. It's been over a year and a half now that I've been working for them. I eat. I sleep. I wait for their instructions. And then I kill for them."

[Morgannah]

14:07:54 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Air rushed out of her lungs somewhat faster than she anticipated.

"I have as well. Killed for them, I mean."

Cosmo closed her eyes, just for a second. It saddened her to think of Shield as nothing more than an indentured hitter for an organization of crazed adolescents.

"What else have they made you do for them? Have you worked with other people before?" She offered a wry smile as she looked up at him.

"We're a team tonight."

[grendel]

14:08:49 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Shield returned her smile. "I have, although none quite as pretty as you. I've worked with several people regularly. Mostly technical types to get through security and whatnot. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do tonight, unless they want me to act as your bodyguard. How long have you worked for them?"

[Morgannah]

14:09:26 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo almost laughed. "I've been active for sixteen days, fourteen hours, nine minutes, and .. thirty four seconds." The smile she flashed him was absolutely brilliant, almost as if the events leading up to her being put out of commission for the last two years of her life never happened. Almost.

"And you can call me Cosmo." She rose as gracefully as a flower unfolding and all but glided across the small room to hang her heavy garment bag next to his and, with a flourish worthy of any stage magician, pulled the zipper free to reveal a spectacular gown in vibrant ruby red silk.

"Tell me, Shield, do you dance?"

[grendel]

14:11:48 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Shield returns the smile, letting out a soft whistle at the dress revealed, distracted for the moment from Cosmo's question. "Nice dress. Wait, what?"

Cosmo glanced back at him over her shoulder, busily unloading the carryall which held all of her cosmetics.

"You know, dance: waltz, rhumba, tango, swing. All of the above? None of the above?" She almost laughed out loud again at the look of utter terror on his face.

Ask a street sam to charge a Lone Star citymaster in boxers with a bayonet and he'll be gone at a dead run. Mention a social situation that requires some grace and decorum and it's the end of the world.

Shield shook his head. "Definitely none of the above. Can't I just stand in the shadows and look menacing? I'm good at doing that."

[Morgannah]

14:15:27 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

"I'm sure you are," she chuckled, turning to wave a pair of four-inch stilettos at him, "but if we're attending the social event of the season, we should really do it in style. Now why don't you put all those muscles to good use and move this furniture out of the way; I think we have time for a lesson or two."

Yes, of course dancing wasn't going to be a necessary part of the evening, but given the choice between mingling with Los Angeles' social elite for polite conversation and canapés and enjoying a turn on the dance floor, she figured that Shield would prefer the latter. Besides, they's be working together tonight; an early start on co-ordination and partnering would be nothing but a benefit to them.

[grendel]

14:32:08 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

All in all, Cosmo's toes survived surprisingly well. Shield had picked up the steps quite rapidly after discovering that all it really involved was repetition based on rhythm. Cosmo suspected that his obvious martial arts training had something to do with his speed of learning, and she would have been lying if she didn't admit to enjoying the effortless strength present in his sculpted arms and thighs. The dance pulled a light sheen of sweat to his skin, his scent faintly spicy in the dry air of the dingy room.

"Smile," prompted Cosmo softly, looking up into his face. Shield blinked, his eyes flickering up from watching his feet to meet her gaze. His lips automatically curved into something resembling a smile, something at least more expressive than the blank mask he wore when concentrating.

"Sorry," he replied, taking command of his facial muscles and relaxing them into a less mechanical rictus.

Cosmo shook her head. "Don't be sorry, just relax and smile. You're supposed to be enjoying yourself."

Shield almost rolled his eyes. "Right, just don't mind my sweaty palms."

[Morgannah]

16:11:47 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Cosmo ran her hands over the deceptively simple updo, teasing a few strands of hair into artful disarray while she used the bathroom mirror to sneak a look into the hotel room.

"You're going to do fine, you know," she called out, shamefully eyeing Shield in his socks and boxer shorts. "I've danced with plenty of men and you're already better than most. Jiu jutsu, right?"

Her laugh was soft, just shy of teasing, really, as she stopped fussing with her hair to apply one last coat of mascara to lashes that were already soot-black and sinfully long. "Some Arnis de Mano too?" Cruel as it might be to leave the door cracked as she dressed, it really was important to let all the steam out before a big night, wasn't it?

[grendel]

16:13:09 Tuesday, 16th January 2063 - Room 214, Commerce Motel 8, 7810 Telegraph Road, Los Angeles, CFS

Shield's gaze was riveted on the trideo, although Cosmo knew what was playing was mindless at best. His studied indifference to her barely towel-clad self telegraphed the message that her teasing was having precisely the effect she wanted.

"Uh, yeah, six years of Kali, only four of Jiu Jitsu, but mostly I've studied Jeet Kune Do." He glanced back at her, enhanced vision easily cutting through the wisps of steam still curling from the shower around her, his eyes traveling from the exposed length of calf up over the curves barely hidden by the thin motel towel, to her naked shoulders and neck. He snapped back to the trideo.

Cosmo chuckled, setting down her make-up brush to run her hand over the delicate silk of her dress. Just the feel of the gown brought back the memories of Sunday night's whirlwind design meeting.

5005A Strathmore Ave, Los Angeles, CFS

The address provided by Tino took Cosmo deep into the Los Angeles sprawl, through winding streets packed with the muscle necessary to feed the relentless appetites of the City of Angels. Workshops and warehouses stood shoulder to shoulder, plain lettered signs in front of each advertising multiple services in construction, moving, lighting, landscaping, everything necessary to create an alien world on a sound stage. Or some beach in southern Cal Free State. Location shooting had almost become a thing of the past.

Parking her BMW in the side lot squeezed between two identical large frame buildings, Cosmo scanned the area carefully. The distinct lack of traffic made her nervous, in the way that only a social chameleon can be when faced without the protection of the herd. Her scan of the buildings and the rooftops did not produce anything to elevate her already healthy sense of paranoia, so, slinging her purse over her shoulder, the stepped out from the car and made her way to what she hoped was the front door of the building. It had no buzzer, nor address card, simply a pull bar that proved to be unlocked when she tried it. Glancing around her one last time, she proceeded inside.

The hall was short, with a bare concrete floor and construction plastic walls papered with a multitude of advertisements for events: gala parties and movie premieres, charity balls and the like.

“Hello?” she called out, tilting her head to one side to try and catch a response to her hail. Her heels clicked on the floor, carrying her further into the building, finally revealing the massive interior around the corner of the entrance hall. Floor to ceiling steel shelving units spilled over with every imaginable style and color of cloth. Wheeled racks stood haphazardly about, some jammed full of dresses and coats, others carrying only empty hangers with no rhyme or reason or system apparent. Cosmo was about to call out again when voices rose suddenly from behind one of the massive shelving units.

“No, no! I tell you it will not do! It is abhorrent! I cannot work with that woman. She wants the impossible. No, she wants the hideous is what she wants. I will not lower myself. Tell Anton that he will have to go it alone. I have Milan. I have New York. We are behind in fitting all of Chanteuse and they go to Paris next week!”

The speakers emerged, walking perpendicular to the narrow aisle in which Cosmo stood.

“Get Elizabeth on the line, because we will have to work two shifts tomorrow. Tell her that if just one of her girls is late I’m going to nail her….”

She opened her mouth to call out when the older gentleman reappeared, gazing down at her through his wire-rimmed glasses. Dressed in dark slacks and a button down shirt with what her practiced eye knew was a silk tie in a double Windsor, he was every inch an aristocrat.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Sweet muse, come closer, let me see you.”

He didn’t wait for her to approach, moving down the narrow aisle towards her with an air of royalty approaching a favored cousin.

“Truly I have not seen your equal in a long time, fair Helen. That hair, those cheekbones! Look, Panitter, her eyes!” As the words slipped from his mouth, his finely manicured hands reached out and brushed themselves across the respective attributes. He had a possessive manner about him, as if Cosmo were nothing more than a canvas upon which he was about to paint a masterpiece. Amusedly, she let him lift her chin, tilting her face to the light. This, too, she was familiar with, although she hadn’t met someone like him in a long time.

“Ah, such a face! And neck, the perfect swan. You have such fine posture, your shoulders so delicate, and the décolletage…” As he lifted her breasts, she did start momentarily, and almost immediately regretted it as it seemed to break some kind of spell. The gentleman recoiled as well, drawing his hands back with a look of blank surprise that quickly gave way to something else, a sly smile twisting his lips.

“Ah, Jean-Paul, you brazen hussy! Look at you, pawing at the young thing as if you knew her sweetest secrets.”

Taking Cosmo’s right hand in both of his, Jean-Paul pressed his lips to the back.

“My dear, I am Jean-Paul, but you may call me Jean-Paul. I shall be the conductor and you shall be my concerto! My operetta! Welcome to my palace, my cathedral of couture!”

Never releasing her hand, Jean-Paul used it to slap himself softly on the cheek, his head reeling back as if the blow had been heartfelt.

“Oh! Mademoiselle! You are so cruel!” After a moment’s pause, he glanced back at Cosmo his smile once more crafty, his accent impeccable.

“Ah, but it is what I love about you, ma chérie! Come, quickly now, whisper to me your plight!”

Cosmo almost laughed as he pulled her deeper into the warehouse, never really letting her answer any of his questions.

“It is the black dress, no? The most necessary ingredient to a woman’s wardrobe.” Jean-Paul glanced back with a critical eye.

“No, no it cannot be. You speak that language already. It must be something else. A man perhaps? You have a heart to win, no? A suitor to drive mad with desire? I think yes. Or, are you at war? Has another woman set her eyes on your heart’s true love? A catty bitch, yes? I can tell.”

Jean-Paul pulled up short, leaning close to her conspiratorially.

“You and I together, ma cherie, we shall give you a weapon that no other woman has wielded since Eve offered an apple.”

And he was off again, towing Cosmo behind him with surprising strength.

“Indigo, perhaps? The new black for the spring? A vision in white? No, it is too cliché, it has been done! Jean-Paul follows no one’s footsteps! But of course, think of the apple. It is only appropriate.”

Leaving her for a moment, the older gentleman slipped away to one of the massive shelves, plunging both his hands into a seeming maze of fabric bolts, before emerging with what appeared to be liquid fire. His smile growing smug, Jean-Paul poured the cloth into Cosmo’s arms. It was as light and smooth as silk, flowing through her fingers like gossamer. The bright overhead lights struck brilliant crimson highlights from it, as if the fabric itself writhed with captured fire. She nodded. This was perfect. Jean-Paul whipped a tape measure from around his neck and winked at her with a knowing gaze.

“Come, ma chérie, let us make some music!”

[grendel]

12:59:09 Monday, 15 January 2063 - Outside The Bakery, Renton, Seattle, UCAS

Ludi swerved through traffic, the muscles along her jaw clenched in determination. So intent was she on the road and the traffic that she missed it entirely when the standby call graphic in her view connected to a live feed. It was only when Mikhail's voice came over the line that she paused to allow herself to breathe.

"Yes, my sweet Ludi? What can I do for you?"

She worked her jaw against the tension.

"The bakery was just destroyed," she reported, her voice dead and level. Silence filled the line.

"Go home immediately. I'm sending Vadim over."