The rest of the car ride continued in silence. The windows were so heavily tinted that El couldn't even see out, so she instead closed her eyes and lay back, a contented smile on her face.

She startled when the engine shut off a half-hour later, blinking blearily and then hurrying to follow the man out into a spartan garage, through a thick heavy door into an equally spartan hallway, and finally into a 'conference room' that had more in common with an interrogation chamber than any normal place of business.

The debrief was fairly quick. After all, El had no idea the purpose or function of the device she'd stolen beyond its location and the security around it. Even that she'd mostly bypassed through the temporary loophole of her janitor ID granting her clearance far beyond what it normally deserved, courtesy of Spider.

Luckily, the handler in charge of her debrief cared little for the details. The op was a small one in the grand scheme of things. As far as corporations went, her target was about as small as they came, the R&D department operating out of only a single lower floor of a high rise. Which meant that after only an hour of grilling and reliving every second of the short op, El was escorted from the conference room to her home: the Nest.

That wasn't the official name, of course. There was no official name, beyond a string of random letters and numbers printed on the outside of the series of thick metal doors she had to pass through to get there. But El enjoyed coming up with names for things, and 'Nest' felt appropriate.

'Birdcage' had felt more appropriate. But her handlers tended to get uncomfortable when she showed anything resembling discontent -- so 'Nest' it was.

"I'M BACK!" she called as the last door hissed shut behind her, arms spread wide with a smile stretching her cheeks. "DID YOU MISS ME?"

Three heads turned to her from different areas of the room, eyes tracking her dramatic entrance. The first set blinked slowly before turning away, the owner much more interested in the massive pile of food in front of him than her antics. The second set never fully looked at her, the eyes flitting around her form before averting just as quickly. But it was the third set El was most interested in.

"Elissa, welcome back. I trust your mission went well, then?"

"Of course. As if any mission so simple could give me trouble," El scoffed.

"Well, that's good to hear regardless. It's my prerogative to worry, either way," Handler Anderson said, before nodding to the second set of eyes, who was sitting across from her at the sterile metal table. "Spider was concerned after the alarm went off. He wasn't sure if the janitor ID would hold up under closer scrutiny."

"Aw, you were worried about me, Spider?" El said with a teasing lilt to her voice as she slid onto the bench next to the second set of eyes. Her clothes had morphed to more closely resemble the grey jumpsuits that her fellow experiments wore, although hers was much less shapeless. She crossed her arms under her chest as she leaned forward on the table, further accentuating her form.

Next to her, Spider shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting anywhere but toward her as he unconsciously leaned away from the shoulder that brushed against his. Until finally, with a panicked shake of his head, his eyes glowed blue, a sure sign he'd dived into the net.

El laughed as Handler Anderson frowned at her. "That was rude, Elissa," she said. "He was legitimately concerned for you, and you know that makes him uncomfortable."

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

El rolled her eyes, her jumpsuit shifting to be less form-fitting. "Fine, I'll apologize when he's out," she lied. With how small and restricted their local net was, there wasn't exactly much for Spider to explore that he hadn't already explored a thousand times before. But that wouldn't stop him from spending the next few hours immersed in the environment he was most comfortable in -- more than long enough for Anderson to forget El's promise. She stood up and walked to the table on the far side of the room, attempting to look over the shoulder of the massive man who rested there.

"How's the chow, Jugs? Any for me?"

Jugs ignored her, hunching and then slowly turning his shoulder to prevent her access to the flavorless nutrient paste that was piled in front of him. Undeterred, El reached around him to swipe a fingers-worth, and Jugs shifted even further to prevent it.

"Elissa," Anderson sighed. "Please leave Dave alone. You are not qualified for any calories for another six hours, not without exercising first. And you know he prefers Dave. We've had this conversation before."

"But Jugs just fits so much better!" El continued to try and reach around the massive man to get at the paste. Though she was careful to not actually make contact with the grub -- now that Anderson had explicitly stated she wasn't qualified for more calories, she wouldn't dare to actually try for it. "Jugs -- short for juggernaut! It's an impressive, intimidating name!"

"That not true..." Jugs said in a deep, rumbling voice, each word slow and carefully enunciated, and Anderson nodded.

"We all know that's not the first thing people think of. And he has politely asked you to call him Dave. Please respect that."

Once again, El rolled her eyes as she gave up her attempts to grab at the chow. "Fiiinnnne. Dave then. Want to do some light sparring, Dave? Just enough to earn me some calories?" El always had the munchies after a mission, regardless of what the handlers might claim about 'optimal calorie intake.'

There was a short pause before Jugs shook his head and turned back to his mound of food.

"Booo," El whined, determined to annoy the large man into sparring with her. It was unlikely to work -- while Jugs could be persuaded to many things, few could compete during meal times. That wouldn't stop El from trying, though. She had to pass the time somehow, after all, and despite staying up all night she had no desire for sleep.

But before she could start, another voice sounded from right behind her. "I'll spar with you, 1554."

Any other person would have jumped at the sudden voice. Anderson did, despite being in a position that should have granted her complete vision of the man standing in El's shadow. And Jugs had an even more dramatic reaction, his arm that a moment earlier had been clutching a spoon loaded with paste was now at his side where El knew he normally carried a weapon on missions. But El had better control.

Her smile not even twitching, she slowly turned to face the fourth member of their merry little band of misfits.

"1791! You're back! I thought you were still on a mission!"

"No, I returned a few hours ago. I will spar with you," he said again, his voice low and scratchy.

"Eh, I'll pass. Thanks for the offer, but I'm actually feeling a little tired. Think I might take a little nap. All-night mission, ya know."

EL-1791 just stared at her, unblinking, as Anderson and Jugs looked on. "...I thought you wanted calories," he said. "I'll spar with you. Authorized calorie expenditure. Earn your meal."

El just shrugged, her face only showing carefree nonchalance. "I could go either way. It was just a passing fancy."

A slow smile formed on 1791's face as he took a step forward, clearly unwilling to let go of the opportunity now that it had presented itself. Normally, he never had a chance to spar outside of the mandated hours. The only reason El had asked for a spar with Jugs was that she thought 1791 was still gone on a mission. She took a step back, mirroring 1791's approach.

"Now EL-1791, you know the rules..." Anderson began in a hopeless attempt to talk 1791 down. El knew it wouldn't work, but she appreciated the effort. But before the handler could continue, a deep voice interrupted her.

"I spar."

El looked back in surprise.

Jugs hadn't quite finished his mound of food, but his spoon was out of his hand, sticking like a flagpole into the paste. "I spar, El," he repeated.

"Ugh, fine. You've convinced me, Jugs," El groaned, but internally she sighed in relief.

Dave, she reminded herself. He wanted to be called Dave.

He'd earned that much -- at least once. Until she next forgot.