Excitement glimmered in her eyes. "So you're going to approve our enrollment?"
"Not so fast, Natalie. Registration for HSSC Academy starts a month from now. All enrollees have to pass a vetting test. Just to make sure they get the best and the brightest. Can't make an exception for you two, no matter how well you've performed."
"When is the test?"
"Does it matter?
"No, sir. Thank you, sir. We'll be ready."
"I'm sure you will. I didn't put time and effort into your training for someone else to reap the benefits. From here on out, you belong to me. Is that understood?"
We stood and saluted. "Yes, sir."
He dismissed us with a wave of his hand. "That's all, then. I'll let you know when to report for your test. Take some time off until then. Find something enjoyable to do for once. You've earned it."
3
"C'mon, punch me in the face harder."
Natalie was tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. Her hair was in wild disarray, her tank top and cargo pants soiled by blood and sweat. Her face was discolored by bruises, one eye swollen nearly shut.
For some reason I felt worse than she did, and I was the one who dealt the damage.
We didn't take any time off. Natalie wanted to get the jump on our training, so we dove into it. She tapped Frankie to hack into the HSSC's protocol programs so we could know what to expect. Natalie became fixated on the interrogation sessions. She insisted that we get used to the practice of torture and enhanced interrogation in preparation.
I dropped my fist. "I don't feel like doing this."
She sneered. "Don't be a pussy, Mike. You know we have to master this."
"I'll master it when the time comes. I don't want to master it on you."
"You know what they'll do in the academy. Find out your weaknesses and exploit them. They have to weed out anything that could compromise them in the field. I'm not gonna be your weakness, Mike. You have to get over not wanting to hurt me."
"You don't even know if this scenario will even happen. I ran the numbers. The chances of us being pitted against each other in an interrogation scenario are—"
"You and your numbers." Her swollen lips curled back, exposing red-stained teeth. "Analytics won't make you an Agent."
I folded my arms. "Actually, I'm pretty sure they will."
"Damnit, Mike. You're such a smug asshole." She freed herself of the restraints with a single motion, raising her hands to her temple. With a gesture, she vanished from the room.
I sighed and did the same, removing the cyber-halo from my head. The interrogation chamber dissipated, revealing the VR training room. I glanced over at Natalie. She wasn't injured at all. The digital session combined with the sensory cyberskin we wore made the session as indecipherable as real life.
I didn't have to read Natalie's expression to know she was furious. But I was still unprepared, stepping off the platform just as she rammed into me at full speed, bowling me over.
"You're not taking this seriously." Hair flailed across her face, and her eyes flashed, lost in the hallucinogenic haze of pain and fear that took over when the fury possessed her. She punctuated every with a vicious kick to my midsection.
"Do you know how they'll look at us? Like weak, frightened children. They'll eat us alive if they see any weakness." She slammed a knee into my chest and rained a flurry of punches at my face.
I blocked most of them, grabbed her arms and used my legs to shove her away. She rolled backward, landing on all fours like a cat. I stood and assumed a defensive stance.
"Stop it, Natalie. I don't want to hurt you."
She smirked, eyes searing with scorn. "That's what your problem is." She followed with a feint, then two jabs that snapped my head back. I shook the dizziness off and retreated, trying to anticipate her attacks.
A wicked smile flashed on her face. "You're soft, Mike. If it weren't for me, you'd be nothing in this program."
The bite in her words startled me. She used my hesitation against me, scoring two stiff body blows followed by an uppercut that made my head ring.
"Look at you. You're still a scared little boy. No, I take that back. Just a scared little bitch."
My faced flushed with heat and my fist struck before I knew it, smashing into her face. She stumbled back and fell backward, head rebounding off the hard floor. Heart pounding, I dropped down to help her up.
"Natalie, I'm sorry…"
I was shocked she looked up, a fierce grin on her face. Her tongue flicked out, licking the bead of blood from her split lip and smearing it over her mouth. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Your problem is you think too much. Follow your gut and you'll never be wrong."
The call chime rang, activating the widescreen on the wall. Deacon's face appeared on the monitor. He took everything in with a glance, weighing and judging as he always did.
"I hope I'm not interrupting, but I have some important news."
Natalie put her hands on her hips. "What is it?"
"We found your father."
Gary Whitman was tied to a chair in a darkly lit room. Stripped naked, he sat in his flabby, vein-riddled skin, trembling not from fear, but from withdrawal symptoms. He was balding, his remaining hair more white than gray. His frame was that of a large man, but neglect turned his body into wasted sinew. Track marks dotted his arms and legs from his nirvanic habit. The electric blue of his eyes were the only things that seemed alive, glowing in the dark at testimony to his point of no return. The rest of him looked like a corpse.
Drugs were Gary's gods, and he sacrificed everything he had to worship them. He used the money for his wife's diabetes medicine on drugs, barely noticing when she went into shock and died only a few feet away from where he sat in a narcotic-induced haze. He sold everything he had for drugs until there was nothing left except for his twelve-year-old daughter.
Then he sold her too.
Natalie picked him up at the hospital. Identified herself as his only living relative and signed the papers allowing him to be placed in her care. There wasn't much of a vetting process. Gary had no money, and the hospice couldn't wait to get him off their hands. He was mostly catatonic, barely able to register what was happening when taken to an interrogation site. He never tried to resist even when painfully secured to the chair with zip ties that cut furrows into his skin.
Natalie paced in front of him like a restless wolf, fury radiating from her pores. I could scarcely breathe in her presence. Her murderous rage was fully unbridled, and I knew only blood could satisfy her.
A small pick gleamed in her hand. Only four inches; sharpened to a point at the end. It wasn't a weapon intended for killing quickly.
"Look at him. He doesn't even know where he is." She spat the words like curses, eyes fixed on her father's ghastly face. "It's not fair. How can he overdose and get to sail away in a haze? After what he did? After all the things he did to me?" She shook her head. "No. He doesn't get to die until he pays for it. Until he remembers what he did."
The first stab punctured his shoulder. A drop of blood welled when she pulled the pick out. Gary trembled, slowly turning to stare at the tiny wound. His glowing eyes stared without comprehension.
Her next stab went through his cheek.
I suffered from sleep paralysis when I was a child. I'd lie in my little niche under a building or in a filthy alley, unable to move or speak. I heard sounds, eerie voices rising higher and higher in volume; I was pinned by invisible hands, some demon holding me down while I was unable to resist.
I felt the same way while Natalie tortured her father.
I wanted to turn away but I was transfixed, almost as much a prisoner as Gary was. Natalie hadn't asked me to stay, but the sheer force of her will impelled me to remain, paralyzed and mute, a silent witness to the savagery of her wrath. She never exploded, never screamed or shouted. She was precise, methodical. Never punctured any vital veins or organs. She took her time, stabbing over and over again. Finally, Gary screamed. The sound bounced off the walls, ringing in my ears.