Vyvani

"What the hell are you doing here?" I stare with my mouth agape at a smiling Vorin. He's standing at the entryway to Jerim's sky mansion, holding a bottle of Hors d'Age cognac in one hand, dangling a silver ePipe in the other. "What about your sisters?"

"I left them with a babysitter," Vorin says. "Thought I'd surprise you." His smile wavers when I fail to respond. "What the heck, Vy. Aren't you surprised?"

"I am," I mutter. Not pleasantly, I nearly add. If Vorin is present when I proceed with my makeshift interrogation of Sangsum, and, if Vorin's father is truly connected to the murky workings of the Shampai Group, then Sangsum might be less than enthusiastic in his responses in the presence of another who knows his business. I try not to appear too irked as I step through the doorway. This night has most definitely taken a turn for the worse.

"Well, my bad," Vorin says in that vexingly passive aggressive tone of his. He shakes the bottle of cognac in his hand. "I even came bearing gifts. I thought you liked a little cognac. I even brought this ePipe my dad got from Zanaku City. Plum flavored."

"You know I don't smoke," I say.

"Dad says it's nicotine free." Vorin points at a waterdrop logo lasered onto the surface. "That's what this means."

"Maybe," I sigh.

"Okay, well at least be happy with the cognac." Vorin leans in close to whisper. "Even Jerim can't top this stuff. My dad got it from a client of his. Very wealthy."

"Shampai?" I ask slowly.

Vorin shakes his head. "Another one. Apparently Shampai is in real deep with these guys. Sangsum's a bigger poser than I thought." Vorin puts on a condescending smile. "I can't wait to see that little prick try his act tonight. It'll be a night of comedy, Vy. A night of damn comedy."

Vorin opens the door and leads me inside.

"If it ain't Vorin!" Dariv shrieks from the dining room, past the rotunda. The girls and guys are seated at a large table, made of what appears to be jade marble. Sangsum leans back from the head of the monstrosity and nods his head in a leisurely manner.

"Over here, Vy," Sangsum says. He graces me with a wide, greasy grin.

"Prick," Vorin says through the clenched teeth of his smile.

We take our shoes off at the entryway and step up onto the marble floors. Everything in this damned house is of marble, I notice. The rotunda is of white and copper marble, the walls are of marble, the tables, the countertops, the pillars—all marble.

This is Jerim's abode, but Sangsum is the one lounging as if it's his, wearing a look and carrying himself as if he is an ancient emperor reincarnated, strolling through his palace, the marble a reflection of his magnificence. Despite my better judgment, the things Vorin has told me concerning Shampai's misfortunes taint my opinion of Sangsum, and I find that I have to constantly remind myself not to smirk at a demeanor that I now know to be a very papery cockiness.

Jerim's already tipsy, his face and neck red. He looks like an overripe cherry, one wrong touch away from bursting. I grow hot merely looking at him.

"AAAAYYEEE." Jerim swaggers over to me. "AAAYYYEEEE QUUUEEEEENNN. So glad you could make it!!!"

"Too bad you're drunk already," I reply.

"I'm not, I'm not," Jerim insists. "I-I am jjjuuuussstt gettting started." He takes a deep breath. "Wanna go to the cellar with me? Cheeeeck out my dad's collectionnnn."

"I'll go with you," Vorin interjects. I'm thankful that he's stepped in for me. "Hey, Aya, can you take this?" Vorin hands the bottle of cognac to her. "Wait until we get back though. I want to try it with all of you."

Aya skips over to us and accepts the bottle from Vorin as he takes Jerim by the arm. "Let's go, Jerim. Show me this collection of yours."

"YYYYEEEEE." I hear Jerim's voice echo off the walls and the vaulted ceiling as the two boys make their way towards the stairs leading down into the cellar.

Aya squeals and takes me by the hand. I can tell she's had more than a couple of drinks already. "I'm so glad you could make it, Vyvani. See?" She gives me a knowing smile. "As soon as you get here, Jerim's all ready to show us the good stuff his dad keeps stashed."

"Yeah," I admit. I let her lead me to the table. Dariv's there, talking with Winzi, a model-esque girl with the ends of her hair dyed purple. Milara's listening politely to an overbearing Parkim, drunk out of his mind and more boisterous than ever. There are others here as well, kids who aren't really a part of the group, but who rather just float about on the fringes of our circle, partially hoping, I suspect, to be accepted as full-fledged members with all the supposed perks it brings—like being invited to parties akin to this one, where every minuscule element, every word spoken, each small action, are all displays of absurd wealth.

"Hey, Vy. Come sit next to me." Sangsum smacks the seat of the chair beside him. "I saved you a spot."

Much to my annoyance, Aya pushes me forward as if she expects I was going to obey anyways. But then I remember my assignment, and I decide that this is a stroke of luck unexpected, and I silently thank Aya for her minion-esque tendencies.

"Hey, Sangsum," I say cheerfully. "Did you drink a lot?"

"Not at all," he claims. I can smell the alcohol, thick on his breath. "Just getting started. Here, why don't you have a shot?"

He slides a crystal glass my way, then drops an ice sphere inside with a pair of silver tongs. He fills the glass halfway with an aromatic whiskey, then pours the same amount into his own cup. We clink glasses.

"One shot," he insists.

I down the whiskey in one go and let the tastes overwhelm my senses. I can taste the hints of vanilla, the slightest bit of fruit, and the intense dryness of the wooden barrel seeped into its flavors. The amount of the drink and the abruptness of its consumption leave me maddeningly warm and burning.

"Damn," I gasp. "That is not how we should have drunk that." We should have savored it, I think to myself.

Sangsum gives a swaggering laugh. "Yeah? That there was a three-hundred-year-old whiskey from before the era of hover tech, when they had just invented the automobile." He lifts the bottle of cognac that Vorin brought from among the other dozens of decanters of liquors. "Well, let's try this then."

"Vorin wanted us to wait for him," I protest.

Sangsum scoffs. "He should have taken it with him if he didn't want anyone else drinking it before he did.” Without a second's hesitation, Sangsum uncorks the bottle. I wince without realizing it.

Sangsum takes my glass and tosses the remaining ice over his shoulder. When he notices me staring at him in disbelief, he shrugs. "It'll melt. Everyone knows cognac this old needs to be taken neat."

We take the drink together. Now that I've had my fill of liquid courage, I decide to make an attempt at my mission.

"Pretty nice place Jerim's got here," I say, making a show of looking around. I am forced to admit, the place is palatial. If it weren't for the city lights far below, burning like fallen stars on a black field, I wouldn't have even guessed that the mansion was situated on the top floor of a skyscraper.

Sangsum shrugs. "Yeah, not bad."

I notice the twitch on his brow as he says this, and I take it as a sign of annoyance. "It was pretty nice of him to offer up his place for the party."

"Of course it was," Sangsum says sardonically. "I mean, we couldn't do his housewarming party at my house, could we?"

"Was that what this was?" I ask. "I didn't know. I just thought you had something going on, because we usually do stuff like this at your place."

Sangsum finishes off his drink and proceeds to refill our cups. "Yeah. Not this time though."

I find myself growing increasingly exasperated at this point, and I search my mind for ways to bait him. "Do you think he has a garage or something on the floor below? I heard that some sky mansions come equipped with their own elevators."

"Yeah," says a loud voice behind me. Parkim drops beside me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I smile to keep myself from recoiling away from his body.

Normal people usually require a consistent emptying of their bladders following a couple of drinks—a perfectly normal biological response that humans cannot help.

Not Parkim though. Parkim doesn't go to the bathroom. He just sweats profusely. As if he's gone swimming in his clothes. I feel the wet stickiness of his skin against my own, like I’m pressed against watery clay.

"Jerim's got a garage down there," Parkim continues with enthusiasm unabashed. "I took a look before you got here, Vy." Parkim sips at his glass of whiskey. "He's got hypercars and hypercars. Hot damn, he even has the new Sakranada Belsios. Even Sangsum doesn't have that one."

I had thought to carefully lift Parkim's arm off of my shoulder, as I was beginning to feel the hot damp of his perspiration fogging around the skin of my neck. But as Parkim continues speaking, I realize he might actually be helping my cause. I decide to linger around a little while longer.

"The Belsios?" I ask in a nonchalant manner, taking my glass and swirling it. "Isn't that like, limited edition or something?"

"That it is!" Parkim exclaims. He releases me of his own accord and raises his arms into the air. "Only three”—he sticks three fingers into my face—"of them ever made. Ever. No more now. The last hypercar designed by Handa Sakranada himself. Each one sold for forty million links." Parkim knocks his head back and finishes his drink.

Wrong, I think to myself. The Belsios was a sketch apparently found in Handa's room after his passing, right after Sakranada Motors was bought out by B.Ridge Corporation in a hostile takeover. No one truly knows if the design sketch was actually Handa's own, but marketing works wonders, and everyone likes to believe they’ve purchased an item of legacy.

As Parkim continues speaking, I notice irritation bloom like a dark flower on Sangsum's face. "Jerim's old man got a big ass bonus from the fund he works at. He got it for Jerim on his birthday. Isn't that insane?"

"Yeah, we get it, Parkim," Sangsum says in a low voice. "Go get drunk somewhere else."

Parkim fails to note the resentment in Sangsum's tone. He continues with his praise. "Hot damn, do you think Jerim'll let us take it out for a float? I read the top speed of that thing is like 450 knots, and—"

"Yeah, shut up, Parkim," Sangsum snaps. "We get it. Jerim has nice toys. Screw off, now.” He gulps down his helping of cognac to balm his wounded pride.

Parkim gazes at Sangsum with drooped eyes for a couple of moments, before shrugging and stumbling away to a group of girls at the other end of the table.

"What are you so pissed about?" I dare. "You have tons of spaceYachts and airShips." I lean closer. "Can we get out of here? You know I like flightCraft. I want to see the ones at your place."

Sangsum's lips twitch into a grin at my poultice of flattery, but he shakes his head. "You've already seen them. There's nothing more to see."

I decide to press my luck. "Yeah, but I like seeing them every single time. My dad used to be a pilot. Remember?"

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Sangsum glares at me. "I said not tonight. Stop it, Vy."

I shrug in feigned disappointment. "We wouldn't be having this problem if we just had the party at your place tonight, like we always do. What's the deal? Why didn't we just go to your house this time?"

Sangsum narrows his eyes. "Because, like I said already, this is Jerim's housewarming party." He turns his body to face me and leans in dangerously. I can see the malice in his eyes, the quiet rage that he tries to keep caged there. "What's your deal, Vy?"

"Nothing," I say nonchalantly. "What's your deal, Sangsum? Why so sensitive?"

He takes me by the wrist in a vice-like grip. "You came in with Vorin," he hisses. "What has he told you?"

"Let go of me!" I yank my arm out of his hand. "Paranoid prick. What, you afraid that everyone's going to know your dad's company is broke?" I realize my mistake as soon as I speak, but I'm not sure I care at this point. I've already begun digging the grave—all that's left is to see who falls in first, me or him. Everyone around us is still talking, oblivious to the tension simmering between the two of us.

Sangsum stares at me in a moment of speechless shock. He soon regains his composure and jumps to his feet, his lip curled in a sneer. From the corner of my eye, I see Vorin and Jerim walking towards the table. Jerim stumbles out of Vorin's grasp, bottle of vintage cognac in hand, and reels in Sangsum's direction. Sangsum steps nimbly out of the way and raises his eyes to lock them with Vorin's.

"You can't keep secrets, can you, Vorin?" Sangsum says ominously.

Vorin looks to me, then at Sangsum, and I see fear pass over his face as he realizes what may have occurred. I try to suppress the guilt bubbling up inside of me.

"What'd she say, Sangsum?" Vorin asks nervously. He takes a puff of his ePipe.

"She’s told me all I need to know," Sangsum snarls. "You're screwed, asshole. You and your dad both."

Vorin's face pales, and he gazes at me with a look that’s an amalgamation of confusion, betrayal, and dismay.

At that moment the alarm at the front door beeps, signaling that it's been opened. In walks a group of men, maybe about ten of them, led at the front by two tall figures clad in black suits. One has styled hair and looks like a model; his friend beside him is even taller and has short, messy hair—his left eye glows red from augmentation. As they stride into the room, they direct two of their lackeys to guard the entryway. Two more men stand at the rotunda, while the others move to block any chance of escape. Immediately, I realize that they are Joryoku. The room falls silent, and tension oozes in the air.

"Now then," says the model-esque one. "Which one of you is Vorin? And which one of you is Sangsum?" He throws off his blazer and rolls up his sleeves. I gasp at what I see. His fingers are human, but everywhere else above his hands is not—they’ve been bioEnhanced to oblivion through illegal procedures—it’s a miracle he's even alive. Even the visible parts of his chest beneath his button-down shirt are paneled in grey and blue, concealed as best as possible amidst a jumble of tattoos.

The one with the glowing eye is little better; a writhing dragon on his neck conceals a network of spinal augmentation plates.

"Hey, who the frack are you guys?" Jerim screams. "Get out of my house!" He scratches his head. "How the heck did you guys get past security?"

I steal a peek at Sangsum. He's merely staring blandly at the intruders. He doesn't even seem scared. I begin wishing with all my heart that Shora had given me a camera as well; hopefully she's seen these suits entering the building and is also hearing what's happening here through the listening chip. I trust she's smart enough to match two and two together.

"The rich children are a little hard of hearing, no?" says the model-esque gangster. "Tell me which one is Vorin, and which one is Sangsum. Or I'll throw you out of the window one by one, until I get an answer."

I take a look around, and the kids aren't answering—some of them are actually smirking. They believe in their money, their status, their mommies and daddies, so why would they be scared? I search for the weakest links—Aya and Milara—but they're nowhere to be seen.

"That one's Vorin," Sangsum says, thrusting his chin out at Vorin.

Vorin blanches, then quickly recovers. "And that one's Sangsum. Prick."

The model-esque gangster smiles. "That was easy. Please escort these two gentlemen to the hovercar." Four Joryoku step forward and take Vorin and Sangsum into their custody. Model-esque leads them out the door. Vorin leaves me with one last look of trepidation.

Once the two boys leave, the one with the augmented eye scans the room. "Now," he says with a chilling smile. "Which one of you is the piece that made Vorin's littler head squeak?"

I realize that he's talking about me, and I swallow the fear scrambling up my throat. The other kids look at each other in confusion. Littler head? Vorin? To them, it's like the gangster was speaking in riddles.

"We have all night," he says, leaning against the wall.

No one moves, no one speaks. The only one who knows anything at all is me. Augmented-eye lights a cigarette as he waits for us to begin talking. Soon, Model-esque reenters the room, holding a cTab in his hand.

"Ah," Augmented-eye says. "Technology! Check Vorin's history. Find his piece."

"Here lies the answer to our puzzle," Model-esque sings. The way they're so calm and detached settles a dark fog of dread in my mind. A cold sweat breaks out on my back and neck. I wonder if I should just hurl myself out the window and hope that Shora's car will catch me midair. There would be more chance at survival with that drastic plan than if I remained with these two. Or maybe I could slip away unnoticed and look for a panic room. Jerim, with his personality, is bound to have one of those.

"There's a call here to Vyvani," says Model-esque. "Which one of you is Vyvani?" No one looks, but I can feel the others perceive me. "If one of you will tell me, I'll let the rest of you leave unharmed."

One of the social floaters points at me without a moment's hesitation. "It's her," he says.

Augment-eye smiles. He walks towards the boy who spoke, then proceeds to level him with a bioCharged punch to the side of the neck. I see the chips in his skin blink and fire off as his strike makes contact—blue, red, green, and yellow lights streak up and down his arm, then body, then spine. His eye is alight with red, illuminating his deathly smile.

The kid is hurled across the room and slides on the floor until he hits the wall, out cold. Augment-eye takes a decanter of liquor and makes his way to the kid. He uncaps it and nearly empties it out onto the kid's face. The boy wakes up spluttering and sobbing.

"Stop bitching," Augment-eye says. "It wasn't even a full charge. Necks don't bruise. You should be thanking me for being nice and not ruining your pretty little face." He finishes the remaining drink in the decanter, then wipes his mouth with his wrist. "You deserved that, you little rat. Now scram, snitch, before I kill you."

The boy crawls away, and now I'm left alone in a room full of Joryoku.

Shora, if you're hearing this, come quickly, come now!

"Now then, Vyvani," Model-esque says, taking a seat at the head of the table, opposite from me. "How about we have a little chit—"

There's a clamor in the hallway just outside the entrance. Augment-eye and Model-esque trade looks with one another. Model-esque makes to lunge for me, but I dive to the side. He's so far away, and the length of the entire table was between us; but his jump was bioCharged, and he still manages to scrape my arm and leave a bloody gash. I figure if I could just last ten seconds longer, I might have a chance of escaping this whole thing, if the commotion outside the door is indeed what I think it is.

The door bursts open and a Joryoku mobster storms inside. "We got blackHats on our tail!"

"Shit!" Augment-eye screams. "Shit!"

Model-esque stares coolly at me. "You're a lucky girl. We'll be seeing you later." With that, the two augmented Joryoku sprint right at the floor-to-ceiling windows and hurl themselves against it. The glass shatters, and they disappear into the black void of night. I'm partially curious as to where they went, but when I near the window, a gust of wind blasts into the room and nearly knocks me off my feet. It's so strong, up this high. I can hear Jerim screaming in the background about his broken window. Aya and Milara emerge from the shadow of the hallway, out of the bathroom. Lucky them.

The Joryoku who has just alerted his bosses stares in disbelief, before a group of strategicalTroopers swarms in through the door, energyShields up, cracklers ready to strike.

As the mobster is placed in plasmaCuffs and hauled outside, Shora sprints through the doorway, her eyes frantically searching every inch of the dining room. Relief washes over her face when she sees me. My knees buckle, and I collapse onto the ground. She runs over to me and kneels, allowing me to lean against her.

"Well, that was a bit crazier than we bargained for," she laughs. "I thought I'd lost you there for a moment."

"I thought you'd lost me there for a moment too," I answer.

She laughs louder. "You did a heck of a job, Vyvani. The results are even better than we hoped for, and far less shaky than a dubious warrant. Now we can enter Indato with an army of stratTroops, on the grounds of safekeeping and investigation of Sangsum's kidnapping."

I'm queasier than I care to be, and I still feel the aftershocks of fear and adrenaline; but I'm not angry. Far from it. This internship is better than I could have ever imagined. I burst out in ecstatic laughter.

Muzgal rushes to Shora and taps her on the shoulder. "Councilor, we have a problem."

"What is it?" Shora says.

"We just got word from the Minzyu precinct. It seems a VR café worker called in suspicious activity, and it was just upgraded to a potential kidnapping when she discovered that the kid's room was empty."

"What kid?" Shora asks.

Another voice responds. "Kashniro's son, Councilor. Kazin."

I look up at the guy who has just spoken. He is tall, with medium-length black hair and deep purple eyes. I recognize him as the man from the hologram during the car ride here. His suit is not actually a suit—it’s a uniform. The uniform of the Chief Constabulary Commissioner, to be precise.

Shora curses and curses and curses again. She peers up at the Commissioner. "Commissioner Akato. How honoring it is to see you here at the crime scene. So where is he?"

Commissioner Akato gives a thin smile. I can tell that the two public servants aren't too fond of one another. "Some of the mobsters we arrested just now, who we are questioning at this very moment, are saying that he was handed off to another team of Joryoku in an alley near the Shirumo Crossing."

"Shirumo. That's close to Indato. Maybe they'll have taken Kazin there too." Shora glares at the Commissioner. "Let me speak to Hazgal, at least."

Akato shakes his head. "The brute beat my boys and escaped. We're on the search for him as we speak."

Shora helps me to stand. "You let Hazgal escape? What, was he detained?"

Akato nods. "He was detained for questioning by my constables. He escaped during the chaos of dispatching the stratTroopers here. Don't look so disappointed, Councilor. The man is an ex-Joryoku, and an ex-mercenary. My boys were no match for his like."

Shora shakes her head. "The night just keeps getting better and better. Commissioner, we have to assemble as many teams of stratTroops as we can. Kashniro and his son are top priority as of now. We're storming Indato."

Commissioner Akato frowns. "You don't even know that they are there."

"Have you found any trace of Kash in the districts you've searched?" Shora demands.

"None," the Commissioner admits. He sighs. "Indato will resist."

"Then we'll place the entire damn district under siege if they don't comply," Shora growls. "Even they wouldn't risk defying a warrant. People's lives are at risk here."

"And I wonder whose fault that was to begin with?" Akato says accusingly. "Who dragged Kashniro into this endeavor of theirs?"

A pit forms in my stomach as I watch the two city officials engage in a battle of wills.

Akato relinquishes with an uncaring shrug. "As you wish, Councilor. Ten teams of stratTroops will be at your disposal within the hour." His boots echo against the marble floor as he leaves.

Shora shakes her head. "You ready, Vyvani?" She peers at me, her eyes hard and afire with resolve. "This is the real deal. This is what you signed up for. I’ll give you one last chance to call it quits, if that's what you want."

"Screw that," I say, trying to tame the trembling in my voice. I swallow my short-lived contentment. I realize then and there that the night's only just begun.

Shora smiles at me, nods, then takes me by the arm before leading me out the door.

"Muzgal," she says. "Get the car ready."