Sandra screamed and jerked upright in her bed at 5:37AM on Sunday.
Oh.
She was dreaming again.
Or rather, Sandra was having nightmares. She found the word dumb, the whole idea of such dreams dumb, but were they unfounded? Patting her body, she felt clothes. This was real. Patting her chest, she felt… skin? Looking around, Sandra then realised something odd. The pyjamas she put on the night before had been messily discarded in the corner of the room, and instead clothing Sandra’s body was the catsuit she wore as Justice, although not zipped up well. She was in her room, though. May as well have a good lie down before getting changed out of her catsuit.
Usually, Sandra’s dreams would have been glimpses into a darker universe where she’d been a step too dull in her training. What if she’d lagged behind on a hike, never to be seen in the jungles again? What if she’d trip on a rope during live-fire parkour, or end up in the wrong end of the shooting range at the wrong time? To think she didn’t even remember anyone other than that bastard and Irina. Poor Irina. She was trying to survive. Most of them were trying to survive. Most of them. If she died in that torturous drilling, the name of Alejandra Mosquera simply would have faded into the obscure recesses of yet another brutal contract killer’s mind.
No. She, Alejandra Mosquera, survived, and she would flourish. She would be better than nobodies in the jungle. She would be better than a killer. She would be better.
Interrupting Sandra’s brooding was the sound of dainty tip-toed footsteps bolting to Sandra’s door. Opening it, Sandra lifted her blanket up, covering herself up.
“Morning.” greeted Sandra, watching Irina walk in. She then sniffed the air. Bacon grease. “Smells good. What are you cooking?”
“Bacon… Why’d you scream, though?” asked Irina. “Is your arm alright, by the way? I… did the best I could…”
Sandra let go of the blanket as she checked her left arm. It had been bandaged up, sure enough, and it looked perfectly fine. At least, as fine as a broken arm could be. It looked a little off. Sandra went through worse, though. “Nope. Not at all.” she replied, prodding at the fracture in her arm with her finger. “Feels fine, and looks fine, that’s for certain.” Oddly enough, however, Irina didn’t respond for a little bit, causing Sandra to turn to face her again. “You alright there, babe?”
“N– Nope… Not at all…” said Irina, her face red and her eyes wide. “Y– You look really fine…”
Although confused at first, Sandra realised what Irina had seen as she looked down, giggling about the thought. Pulling her blanket back up, covering herself, Sandra simply said a curt “Sorry.”
“N– No need to say that… I’m sorry for… for coming in. And also for looking…”
“Don’t worry about it. Just… give me a minute, please.”
“A– Alright…” replied Irina, closing the door as she stepped back out of the room, leaving Sandra there to simply think.
Pulling herself out of the bed, Sandra stood over her clothes, lifting the black, skintight layer of elastic Kevlar that her catsuit was off her shoulders. Once she finished, Sandra then pulled her legs out of the suit’s pants and was now out of the suit. Folding the suit up and placing it back in its hidden compartment, Sandra then looked at her usual sleepwear, which was left discarded in the corner.
After sliding into her usual pyjamas, Sandra ambled through the hideout, making her way to the kitchenette. It smelt like bacon. Standing over the pan was Irina, oddly enough, wearing oven mitts.
“What’s with the gloves?” asked Sandra, hugging Irina from behind.
“S– Some of the fat sizzled and it hit my hand… I don’t want that to happen again!”
With an ‘are you serious?’ sort of look on her face, Sandra didn’t say anything. Irina caught on quickly, however.
“It stung!”
“For how long?”
“A second… But still!”
Rolling her eyes, Sandra patted Irina’s arm. “Little space?”
Irina promptly followed, sitting herself down on a seat, tapping her temple, an orange ring appearing in her eye.
“Did you get the banking docs to the police?” asked Sandra, flipping a rasher of bacon.
“I… didn’t have the time last night. I went to sleep… Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Should be me, actually. You at least manage to sleep well?”
“Between trying to look at police photos and reports, while trying to keep chicken noodle soup in my stomach? With the thought that – out there – you could… You know…”
“I know I could die.” sighed Sandra, guilty. “But every single criminal both on the streets of Redcliff and in their penthouse suites deserve some sort of justice for what they think they’re able to get away with. And the city’s good people, her children, deserve better leaders than criminals. I’m willing to sacrifice myself for that.”
Irina sighed, turning back to navigating through the menu, Sandra turning back to the stove. But Irina’s face seemed to contort in confusion. “Something wrong?” asked Sandra, plating the rashers of bacon.
“What happened to the transaction doc?”
“I… what happened?”
Sandra tabbed into her own HUD and scanned for the document. It was gone.
Then, Irina’s breathing began to grow shallow and quick. “I… I don’t know what happened, I was– I used a secure network and everything! I’m not–”
Interrupting this, Sandra closed her HUD and tapped Irina’s shoulder to bring her to lucidity. “D– Don’t worry, maybe you could just hack back in–”
“I can’t!” Irina shouted. “I… I can’t. I was sloppy, the bank’s technical firm probably would have… already updated the encryption by now. It’ll take hours to get into that… And it’s all my fault…”
“It wasn’t your fault… Just slow down. Deep breaths, alright? You’re a good person – a great person. You failing to protect a file won’t account for that.”
In Sandra’s arms, Irina quivered with each breath, although – eventually – the rapidity of this breathing slowed, and soon, she had calmed down. “Wh– What will you do then?” she asked.
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“I have a connection in the street,” said Sandra, “someone who can infiltrate the operation of this ‘A. Bautista’. As for my route, I’ll be on patrol, but just that. I won’t be doing much. We’ll talk when I’m done, I’ll change out of my suit and we’ll go out, get some spaghetti at that fancy Italian restaurant. It’ll be… nice.”
“Is this… a date?”
“I guess you could say that.”
Irina paused on what to say, before simply settling on “Thanks.”
“Never a problem if you’re asking.” Sandra replied, smiling. As she walked towards the door to her room, Sandra said “Do me a favour, try finding the phone number of Eva. I never managed to get it. That okay?”
“Y– Yup!”
Promptly, Sandra changed into her suit, quickly masking herself. Slotting her Spinneret onto her arm, she ran out of her apartment and shot the rope up, hurtling up into the sky with it before swinging away.
Once she’d gotten into the rhythm of swinging, rushing cold air on her face, Justice called Jailbird, asking “Got the number, novia?”
“Mhm!” she replied. “If I– I’m correct, it should be 066879–”
“Don’t worry. Just route me through to a call with her, hide my line, alright?”
“G– Got it!”
There was a slight thudding sound and two seconds of silence, Justice using this time to prepare her voice before a click on the other end silenced her. There was the fuzz and the concerned breathing noises of whoever was on the other end, but nobody said anything.
After that, Justice spoke in her hoarse voice. “Eva Champion. We must reconvene.”
“E– Eva Champion?” stammered the lady. “Now, I don’t know anybody–”
Jailbird threaded the private information of the mugger to Justice via message chat, along with a friendly smiley face, and a comment stating that it was easy to hack into the rest of her network through her phone, and scan the notes of the security around the area. With this, Justice began to coldly read out the lady’s information. “You live in the 12th room at a Briscoe Motel in the south of the city. Each morning, you go out on ‘patrol’ – mugging, no doubt – and in the afternoon, 12PM to 2PM time, you use your earnings to buy pints of beer for your drinking friends at the Vallestrecho bar. You also have your lunch at that place and–”
“Alright, alright! I get it! Just… Okay. Yup. You know… virtually everything about me. Whaddya need?”
“Hang around the seaport and the airport.” ordered Justice. “I want reports on everything going in and out of both. People, drugs, guns. I don’t care what it is. Just tell me if I ask.”
“And what’s in it for me?”
“You’ll be able to walk tonight.”
“Well, you make a good point, boss. I’ll… see what I can do.”
“Don’t worry. First place you go, I’ll cover for you if anything goes wrong.”
“I… Alright. You know the big seaport in the North, with all the shipping containers?”
“I’ll be seeing you.” Justice said as Irina closed the call. Setting up a GPS screen to track Eva’s movements, Justice then began to swing towards the lady (who was currently still in the motel – most likely just preparing for the trip), Justice’s voice changing back to her normal, less throaty voice as she asked “So, babe, are you holding up well?”
“Yeah. I’m… still just confused about how that file disappeared–”
“No. No, you shouldn’t be.”
“B– But… You told me to have it sent through, it’s–”
“Irina. It wasn’t your fault, do you get that? It’s not your fault that the security managed to get an upgrade.”
Grumbling something to herself, Jailbird stayed silent. “O– Okay…”
This turned sour quickly. “If you want me to, I’m down to–”
“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just me, acting up, as usual–”
“It isn’t just you, I thought I said that…” said Justice. “Look. Baby. You’re one of the best ladies I know – one of the best people I know. God knows where I’d be, if you weren’t around to patch me up, forgive me for the stupid things I've done. I love you, I really do! You’re not ‘acting up’ or anything, alright?”
She sighed.
“Well, I’m on my way back. I can get us some pizza, if you’d like.”
Jailbird pondered this. “S– Sure. Yeah. I… I want pepperoni.”
“No olives?”
“No olives.”
Justice dropped into an alleyway near a pizza chain, before buttoning up her trench coat, covering up her catsuit. Then, she removed her mask, sliding it into her breast pocket as she walked out of the alleyway, into the light. Sandra turned a right, before walking into the pizza parlour. As she walked to the counter, the person manning it – a particularly unimposing blonde young man, fresh out of high-school working to pay for college, most likely – put on a customer service smile.
“Welcome to Bauer Brothers Pizza, home of the. What can I get you?”
“Just pepperoni. Boxed.”
“Anything else you need with that, ma’am?” He held up a bank card scanner.
Setting her phone on the device, Sandra smiled, replying “That’ll be all.”
Sandra moved to an empty table and sat herself down, and – in this time alone – turned on her HUD. Checking between random notifications, she then eventually checked the tracker she put on Jonas. It was out. Heading towards the pizza place that Sandra was in. Seconds after, from behind the HUD, Sandra saw Jonas walk by the window, before turning, opening the door into the pizza parlour, and asking for something at the counter. Sandra closed her HUD as the young man – looking a little roughed-up, if not a little tired – skulked over to her table, and slumped down in the chair opposite of her. He seemed to finally be getting a moment’s rest with this, closing his eyes.
The two were silent for a good minute, before Sandra asked “Long day?”
Jonas stammered and flinched as he was awakened, looking around the pizzeria. “Wha– Ah! Uh… Yep. Yep, I’m awake.”
She smiled, and giggled. “So it was a long day for you. What’d you do at work today?”
“Nothing much.” said Jonas, gaining his composure. “Just… a bit of overtime. Had to clock in, do some extra reading down at the library to get ready for a little job none of the other guys want to take on, I’ve gotta fix up the engine of this military big rig.”
“Sounds a little much for someone. Aren’t there… so many finicky bits in them, that could mess you up if something was out of place? I couldn’t deal with that stress.”
“That’s the fun bit!” replied Jonas. “Knowing that your very life could be on the line if something slips up. It’s like heart surgery, you get me? Really gets blood pumping.”
“I think I get where you’re coming from.” replied Sandra. “So, are you seeing anyone?”
Jonas paused. Deliberating, most likely. Then, he said “Nope. But there’s this girl I know…”
“Tell me about her.”
“So… Her name is Mira and I met her in the car park of the apartment complex I live in, after I moved there. She also does this livestreaming thing on the side, too. Me and her, we’re great friends! I… know that’s all she sees us as, anyways.” gushed Jonas. His smile faded as he realised how long it was that he spoke for. “Shucks, I’m sorry for ranting… What about you?”
Similarly to Jonas, Sandra paused. “I’m seeing someone. You wouldn’t know her.”
Jonas’ brow cocked, and he smiled. “You know, you’re not at all like how you seem at work. Not really as… sociable, you know what I mean?”
“I’m just trying to be amicable at work, that's all. Anything wrong with that?”
“Not at all. I guess you could say that about anyone, really.”
Ding! “Pepperoni pizza for Alejandra Mosquera?” barked the cashier.
“Looks like this is where I get off.” Sandra said, standing up. “Nice talking with you, Jonas.”
“See you soon!” said Jonas, smiling as she walked off.
Walking to the counter, the cashier set the pizza box down on the counter, which Sandra picked up, before walking out of the parlour entirely. The rest of that day was nice. Sandra had a break from the whole ordeal that was patrolling the streets, and Irina was generally just happy that her love was around, happy and safe. For at least a day.
After finishing their pizza, Sandra and Irina had fallen asleep together on the couch. It was nice. Up until the point that – out of nowhere – an alarm began to ring. It was Officer Wojciech’s pager. According to a drowsy check of her heads-up display, there was not just police action at whatever this scene was, but mass deployments of emergency response were also being sent out.
Sandra was in the middle of pondering this, when – suddenly – Irina sat up and groggily asked “S– Something going on?”
This caused Sandra to flinch slightly, but she relaxed, to read the information. “Yeah. According to Katja, there’s been an attack at some ‘high priority zone’. She won’t be able to go. I’m sorry to boss you around on what’s supposed to be a break, but…”
“Alright, alright.” said Irina. “D– Do you need me to get into the police radios?”
“Yup. I just need to know where all this is happening.” said Sandra, standing up. “Patch me up if anything happens out there, alright?”