B2 Chapter 6
**Marcella**
“Kimber, though the lounge is very welcoming, the people in it are vipers and opportunists. They won’t be offering anything—information or otherwise—without expecting something in return. Normal hospitality like food and drinks are fine, as I’m owed as an Officer, but ugh, do you get what I’m trying to say?”
“Don’t be distracted by sparkles and promises?” It’s a funny quip, but I’m not in the mood for amusement. “I think so. I definitely won’t be as flippant as I was with Parker.” I can hope that her anger doesn’t trigger in this environment.
“And, don’t talk to the other Officers like you did in the ballroom. Confident is fine, but Medvedev takes disrespect more seriously than many crimes. The only benefit you will have is that there will only be a few people there, and most of the Officers know his habits by now.”
I lead her to a private elevator I haven’t used in several years, and had honestly expected I’d never use it again. I work up a few mental walls to keep the emotion that I know is coming from leaking out through my eyes and face.
Walking out of the elevator, the hint of cigar smoke and the soft sounds of jazz remind me of a simpler time where I would yell at my sister for her choices. This was the place that my sister met the husband that betrayed her for power. The husband that got jealous that we didn’t need his stupid, petty ass anymore.
“Kimber, I don’t mean to be a downer but be careful what you say here. The attendants are rewarded for full, exemplary service and are trained to do nearly anything to be of service. Also, if you say anything in front of Medvedev or the other officers, they will use it against you at some point.”
She nods at me as we walk out toward the reception area. The first attendants come in a pair, one male and one female, and once we choose we will be attended by the same gender the remainder of the night, if not by the same person. They greet us in perfect unison.
“Welcome to the Executive Lounge. What do you require?”
“You,” I point to the young man, “My protegee will need an Attendant in training. Female.” He nods and marches smartly away. “You, will tell me your name and then arrange a French press of coffee and a whisky as old or older than you.”
“Lana, Miss. Do you have a preference of Columbian or Hawaiian Coffee?”
Good question. “The lighter of the roasts please, Lana.” She marches off and near simultaneously the young man returns with a cute kid a little younger than Kimber.
“This trainee is Prudence, Miss. Can I be of other service?”
“Prudence, this is Kimber. You will be attending her for the evening.” I turn to address the boy, “Your service is appreciated. Please show us to Medvedev and I will be satisfied.”
The boy nods and proceeds at a more sedate pace. I hear Prudence talk to Kimber, but her tone is low and volume soft enough for me not to eavesdrop. Kimber’s reply is similarly hard to hear, but I see the girl turn and march off in the same direction Lana marched.
Moments later, the boy steps to the side and gestures toward a seating area that I remember too well. The bastard kept this section the same, likely thinking fondly of the meeting he held on the last day I saw my sister alive. It seems he had the chair and the window replaced since then.
“Vasily, you agreed to never summon me here. Why would you insult me so?” I accuse Medvedev as I sit. Lana sets down a tray for me before I have a chance to settle. I smirk at the rage emerging on his face. “Kimber, sit. Lambert, Bennet.” I nod at them while pouring myself and Kimber a cup of coffee and myself a thumb of 16-year old Scotch.
“And I’ve told you never to call me that.”
“There are consequences to breaking your word. Unless you would like me to revert to what I was doing when we made that agreement?” I killed one of his personal staff every time he called me up here. He stubbornly persisted until he got tired of training new Officers.
“I don’t appreciate threats, Marcie.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m technically threatening Lambert and Bennet. I also don’t appreciate you ignoring my intel. But hey, Strum was only trying to start his own Organization, nothing to worry about.”
Kimber leans over in my direction, “You realize he’ll retaliate against me first, right.” She looks worried and has good reason to be. I’m being blinded by old pain.
I sigh. “You have a point. Thank you.” I squeeze her leg. “Alright, Medvedev. I got my petty shot in, and you got me to show in your lounge. What do you want to talk about?”
He crushes a glass in his giant paw of a hand. An attendant rushes over with towels and a new glass. Vasily growls something at the boy and he rushes off as female rushes in with an injector. The asshole waves her off and pulls out a tin I recognize.
“Alchemy most of all. Let’s see what your newest project has made.” He takes a sausage finger and scoops a helping out of the tin and slathers his bleeding palm with it. After twenty seconds or so, he grabs the apron of the girl with a first aid kit and wipes his hand off on it. “Fast acting indeed.”
Prudence comes over with a bottle of the infused juice that Kimber likes and a small tray of canapes. Kimber squeezes her hand and mouths thank you while pulling the tray in her lap. The three other officers glare at Kimber. She smiles and continues on, daring them to say something. I smile at her. Nobody told her any rules.
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“Oh, damn, these are fantastic.” She mutters, not so quietly.
“So, I assume this is more to talk with her about what you want, instead of talking to me?” I accuse.
“As a new member, she can speak for herself.” He picks a cigar from the three he was offered and lights it with a cooking torch.
“Mr. Medvedev, I appreciate the consideration, but Marcella talks with me regularly about my options, and we’ve decided on a direction, and we’ve talked about what modules I might take at levels four and eight.”
The man snorts and I’m ready to leap across to jam that cigar down his neck. “Oh, please. What could possibly be more important to the Organization than Alchemy.”
“Don’t know, sir. What’s important to me, though, is synergy. My Track affinities synergize with Alchemy. I’m looking for another crafting hobby that synergizes with Alchemy, but I’m also looking to mesh my weapon skills with my Track. Marcella thinks that my modules can work me towards a charms or tinkering skill, and ultimately toward a justice-based Enforcer role.”
I nod at her explanation. “Her track would be a great benefit toward our internal affairs goals. Bennet already knows that she can manifest System backing for her contracts. Think about the benefits of not having to chase people down to enforce agreements.”
“Now, hold on, Marcella. One contract does not make a pattern.” Kimber rebukes.
“Bah,” I say, motioning for her to hand me something. My protegee hands me the scroll that was created. I open it to see that the agreement was paid out already. I grin like a thief and toss the scroll to Vasily.
He looks down, then looks over to Bennet. “Jim, did you pay this out already?”
“What? No, of course not, the girl was barely embarrassed. Probably a ploy to empress the girl she was talking with.” Bennet waves the comment off, clearly not intending to pay for losing the bet.
“Well, as I intended to embarrass her and Marcella, I would agree with the System in saying you owed her the 50 credits you wagered. But it seems that the System already transferred the money?”
Panic showed on Bennet’s face before he opened a screen to presumably check his balance. “You little bitch! You dare steal from me?” Bennet rises from his chair, but before he can take a step I throw a knife at him . . . and he sprouts three?
I look at Kimber while she sips her juice. She glances back at me and shrugs. That Talent is worrisome. Luckily the knives are all in his legs and he just collapses to the ground. Vasily and Lambert look between the two of us and just. . . wait.
I gesture to Lana and tell her that Bennet requires transport and medical attention and she finds a large man to cart him off. Lana is providing expert service.
“I think I can see the benefit,” the crime boss states. “It seems that Tracks that work hand in . . . Hand with the System have some unexpected results. Have we had one of these before?”
Lambert and I shake our heads, but he speaks first.
“Not in this way. The Stat Oracle would be impossible without some System synergy, but we’ve not had a Track that appeared to allow a User to act on its behalf.”
“Is that what you think is happening?” He asks.
“Our partnership with the System is too new to tell. We haven’t had many Tracks of grade C or above repeat themselves. I just don’t think we know enough.”
Vasily sighs. “As much as I hate to admit that research may be as valuable as products, I think that Novarro may be able to get us both.”
“Well, if you still count as a form of government in Vegas, issue some alchemy missions. You can get product without any transfer or purchase costs, and Kimber gets some experience and a little coin. We put her into some IA missions to see if we get some unexpected assistance and Kimber gets a near-perfect advancement scenario for her interest. Both avenues advance my side project, so I have no complaints.”
Lambert motions to say something but retracts his statement.
“Spit it out.” Vasily waves with his cigar.
“Well, Sir, after a certain expertise level, our ‘settlement’ gains overall benefits for having professionals on location. Alchemist is one of those professionals, and Intermediate is the expertise threshold.”
“You were right about the armorer and weapons smith. Analyst and Merchant too. Though the analyst came across as some medieval consultant title. Fine. I’ll agree to the quests and her time in IA, but as soon as she achieves Intermediate in any flavor of alchemy, she works back in the Warram Building.”
That’s about as good a deal as I’m going to get him to agree to. “If I get full autonomy with her until then, then I agree. If not, I get her until t-1 as previously agreed.”
He waves dismissively, “yes, yes, agreed.”
A flash of light reveals a scroll in Kimber’s lap and my resultant joy cannot be hidden. Lambert is fascinated, but also laughing. The only person that isn’t delighted is Vasily: he doesn’t like being cornered by System contracts.
Kimber stuffs the scroll in her vest and continues snacking. I take a deep drag of my scotch in satisfaction.
***
**Kimber**
When we get out of that skeevy lounge I take an extra long shower to try and wash away the feeling that those ‘attendants’ probably did bedroom attending as well. I’m really glad that Marcella warned me to be careful, but I also hate that she pulled Prudence into the situation. Not that she wasn’t already, but I want someone to blame and swearing at Medvedev would have been counter productive.
“Marcie! I’m going to head to the Health Club. I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
“That place makes me angry too, but working angry won’t be as productive as a good night’s sleep!”
I walk into the kitchenette to see my mentor in a sports top and sweats. “If I could sleep. I think messing around with the scrap pile until I pass out is what’s on my mind. Did we have a schedule tomorrow?”
“Yes, of course we do. So, what I want is for you to go downstairs and spend 90 minutes beating the devil out of your mind on the heavy bag, then come back up and tell me how much you feel like running to the Health Club.”
“My schedule starts with Lamar in the morning, doesn’t it.” She nods at me with a sadistic smile on her face.
I call her an asshole to her face then keep swearing as I change into my workout clothes.
Thirty minutes of the heavy bag and I’m still angry. Sixty and I’m gassed and frustrated. Ninety has me focusing on the pain in my hands and feet just so that I can operate the elevator. I slide into the tub and turn on the shower when I get to our suite and whimper as I reach up to pump the soap dispenser and wash myself while trying to baby my hands and legs. On the plus side, I’m gaining some impact resistance.
/you chose to own the pain instead of escaping it.
Empress take me, I like the advancement, but I was not smart about how I earned these. I crawl out of the tub and pull the towel to me as I continue to feel sorry for myself. I must have been making a hell of a racket because Marcella comes in, puts me in jammies and carries me to bed.
“Was it worth it?” she asks me.
“Too tired and in pain to think much. Maybe yes.” She grunts and doesn’t speak again as she wraps an arm around me and drags me off to dreamland.