[Jackie Jones's POV]
I walk down the weathered wooden planks of the dock, my footsteps echoing in the quiet night air. The salty breeze ruffles my hair, carrying with it the scent of the ocean and distant tropical flowers. Behind me, barely visible in the moonlight, lies the sleek outline of my submarine, its dark hull blending seamlessly with the water.
This secluded spot in Bermuda has served as our rendezvous point for a few years, its isolation and lack of prying eyes making it ideal for clandestine meetings. The pink sand beach stretches out to my left, empty save for a few gently swaying palm trees. To my right, the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean disappears into the horizon.
As I make my way down the pier, my mind wanders to Utopia, the hidden paradise I've just left behind. I can't help but sigh, thinking about Lady Ruin's decision to let Tyrell out to watch Super Star's fiancé. It's not my place to question her judgment, of course. Lady Ruin doesn't make mistakes. Her vision and leadership are what made Utopia into the paradise it is. Still, the thought of Tyrell, with his unpredictable nature and questionable loyalties, being trusted with such an important task makes me uneasy.
I shake off these doubts as I spot Mind Mistress waiting further up the pier. Her silhouette is unmistakable, the crisp lines of her tailored suit a stark contrast to the organic shapes of the surrounding landscape. Behind her, a nondescript boat floats gently in the calm waters, its presence barely disturbing the tranquil scene.
As I draw closer, I can see the moonlight reflecting off Mind Mistress's raven hair, giving it an almost ethereal sheen. She's a formidable ally but one whose motives are never entirely clear.
"Jackie," Mind Mistress greets me, her voice smooth as silk. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"
"Yeah," I reply, my eyes scanning the horizon out of habit. "Do you have it?" I ask, turning my attention back to Mind Mistress. Her eyes seem to gleam in the darkness.
She nods, reaching into her tailored jacket. With a flourish, she produces a sleek, black hard drive, its surface gleaming dully in the moonlight. This small device holds a treasure trove of information, entertainment, and connection to the outside world.
I sigh, feeling the familiar mix of relief and trepidation that comes with these exchanges. Mind Mistress's voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth and assured.
"It's all there," she says, a hint of pride in her tone. "Every new show, all the latest news, documentaries, movies, everything that's been released in the past month. I've even included some exclusive content that hasn't hit the mainstream yet."
I nod, tucking the hard drive securely into my jacket pocket. My gaze drifts to the Ruin Bot hanging silently by my submarine, its sleek metal form a stark contrast to the organic beauty of our surroundings. I give a slight nod in its direction.
As Mind Mistress continues to detail the contents of the hard drive, my thoughts wander to Utopia and its citizens. It's almost ironic, I muse, how Lady Ruin can create nearly every resource imaginable within our hidden paradise, yet the thing our people crave most is this. Entertainment.
Every TV show, every movie, every scrap of news from beyond our borders becomes a precious commodity. In a world of plenty, it's the intangible that holds the most value, stories, ideas, the pulse of a world we've left behind but can't quite forget.
The excitement that will ripple through Utopia when I return with this hard drive is almost palpable. I can already imagine the buzz in the air, the eager conversations, the shared experiences as our citizens devour this month's offerings from the outside world.
The Ruin Bot's metallic footsteps echo across the weathered planks of the dock as it approaches, its movements precise and fluid. In its gleaming hand, a golden ingot catches the moonlight.
As the bot extends its arm, offering the precious metal to Mind Mistress, she holds up a hand, her dark eyes glinting with sudden interest. "Wait," she says, her voice carrying a note of urgency that seems to still the very air around us. "I was wondering if we might trade information today instead."
I arch an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Mind Mistress isn't one to change the terms of our arrangement on a whim. Whatever information she's after must be significant. "Sure," I reply, keeping my tone neutral. "What did you have in mind?"
Mind Mistress reaches into her tailored jacket, the movement smooth and deliberate. When her hand emerges, she's holding a glossy photograph. She extends it towards me, and I take it, careful to keep my expression impassive as I examine the image.
The photo shows a man in a distinctive red jacket and white helmet. Even in this still image, there's an air of mischief about him, a sense of barely contained energy. I recognize him immediately, of course. Tyrell. The man Lady Ruin has inexplicably chosen to trust with such an important task.
"Do you have any information on this man?" Mind Mistress asks, her voice carefully controlled but unable to completely mask her keen interest.
I study the photo for a moment longer, my mind racing. Why is Mind Mistress asking about Tyrell? What does she know? What is she planning? The questions swirl in my mind, but I keep my face a mask of polite curiosity.
"Why is it you need info on this man?" I ask, my tone casual as if we're discussing nothing more consequential than the weather.
Mind Mistress's piercing gaze bores into me, her dark eyes searching my face for any flicker of recognition or deception. The intensity of her stare is almost palpable, like a physical weight pressing against me. I can practically see the gears turning behind those keen eyes, analyzing every micro-expression, every subtle shift in my body language.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Do you know him?" she asks, her voice low and measured. Each word feels carefully chosen a verbal chess move in our delicate dance of information and power.
I meet her gaze steadily, my face a mask of professional neutrality. "No," I reply, my tone even and unhurried. "But give me a few minutes and I can go check with Lady Ruin through the sub."
Mind Mistress sighs, a soft exhalation that carries with it a hint of frustration and perhaps a touch of disappointment. The sound seems to break the spell of intensity that had fallen over us, allowing the ambient sounds of the night to filter back in, the distant cry of a seabird, the rustle of palm fronds in the gentle breeze.
"He's a teleporter," she says, her words carrying a weight of significance. "One that recently got in the way of a target."
The pieces click into place in my mind instantly. Super Star's fiancé. The man Lady Ruin had inexplicably assigned Tyrell to watch over. My heart rate quickens slightly, but I keep my expression neutral, betraying nothing of my sudden understanding.
"I see," I reply, my tone carefully measured. "Let me go check on that for you. I'll be right back."
I turn and make my way towards the submarine, my footsteps echoing hollowly on the wooden planks of the dock. As I approach, a hatch slides open silently, inviting me into its high-tech interior.
Once inside, I make my way swiftly to the communication hub. The soft blue glow of screens and control panels bathes the small space in an otherworldly light. My fingers fly over the keyboard, initiating a secure connection to Utopia.
Suddenly, the largest screen flickers to life, pixels coalescing to form the unmistakable visage of Lady Ruin. Her iconic green hooded cape frames her silver helmet. Even through the screen, her presence is commanding, filling the small space with an aura of power and authority.
"Jackie," Lady Ruin's voice resonates through the speakers, rich and authoritative. "I've been monitoring your conversation through the Ruin Bot."
I straighten instinctively, my posture becoming more rigid under her penetrating gaze. "My Lady," I begin, "What should I tell her?"
Lady Ruin is silent for a moment, the pause heavy with contemplation. When she speaks, her words are measured and deliberate. "We don't know who he's working for, but he's incredibly dangerous. That's what you'll tell her."
I furrow my brow, a flicker of confusion crossing my features. "Shouldn't we just say we don't know him at all?" I suggest, my voice tinged with uncertainty.
Lady Ruin shakes her head. "No," she says firmly. "I don't want them to approach Luke, but I can't have it leaked that it's my doing either. This is a delicate balance we must maintain."
I nod slowly, understanding dawning. "I see. So we give them just enough information to make them wary but not enough to reveal our involvement."
"Precisely," Lady Ruin confirms. "You understand the nuances of this game well, Jackie. That's why I trust you with these delicate matters."
Her words fill me with a sense of pride and purpose. "Thank you, my Lady," I say, bowing my head slightly. "I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," Lady Ruin replies, her tone softening almost imperceptibly. "Now go. Mind Mistress will be growing impatient."
With a final nod of acknowledgment, I say, "As you wish, my Lady."
Lady Ruin's image flickers once, then disappears, leaving the screen dark and lifeless.
I emerge from the submarine, the salty sea breeze hitting my face as I step back onto the dock.
Mind Mistress stands where I left her. As I approach, I notice the subtle shift in her posture, the barely perceptible tilt of her head that betrays her keen interest in what information I might bring.
The photo of Tyrell feels heavy in my hand as I extend it back towards her.
"We don't know who he works for," I say, my voice carrying clearly in the still night air. "But Lady Ruin has marked him as incredibly dangerous."
Mind Mistress blinks, surprise flashing across her face for a split second before her usual composed mask slips back into place. Her dark eyes, usually so inscrutable, widen slightly.
"Really?" she asks, a hint of surprise coloring her tone.
I nod solemnly, watching as she processes this unexpected information.
Mind Mistress sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. "Fuck," she mutters, the uncharacteristic profanity betraying her frustration.
I maintain my neutral expression, even as curiosity burns within me. What plans has this revelation disrupted? What schemes are now being hastily recalculated behind those keen eyes?
"We don't know anything else," I add, my tone carefully measured to convey finality.
I motion to the Ruin Bot, its metallic form gleaming dully in the moonlight. It steps forward, the golden ingot still clutched in its mechanical hand, ready to complete our usual transaction.
But Mind Mistress waves it off, her gesture sharp and dismissive. "Keep it," she says, her voice tinged with resignation. "I still learned he's going to be a pain in my ass."
I nod, accepting her decision without comment. The bot retreats, its movements fluid and silent despite its imposing size.
"See you in a month," I say, the familiar farewell marking the end of our clandestine meeting.
Mind Mistress turns away, her form melding with the shadows as she makes her way back to her waiting boat.
As her boat pulls away from the dock, disappearing into the darkness, I'm left alone with my thoughts and the weight of unasked questions.
*****
[Mind Mistress's POV]
As my sleek boat cuts through the inky black waters, leaving the secluded Bermuda dock far behind, I feel the facade of calm I've maintained begin to crack. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the soft purr of the engine do nothing to soothe the storm of emotions brewing within me.
Once I'm certain I'm out of earshot of the shore, I finally let loose. "FUCK!" I scream, my voice raw and primal. My fist slams into the steering wheel, again and again, each impact sending shockwaves of pain up my arm. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"
The boat lurches dangerously as I vent my frustration, but I'm beyond caring.
"This is worse than I imagined," I spit out between ragged breaths. My knuckles are bloody now, leaving crimson smears across the pristine white of the steering wheel. The pain is a welcome distraction from the chaos in my mind.
I slump back in the captain's chair, chest heaving, as I try to process this new information. The vastness of the ocean stretches out before me, a dark abyss that seems to mirror the uncertainty I now face.
"Either he works for an unknown entity, which sucks," I mutter, running a hand through my disheveled hair, "or he works for fucking Lady Ruin, which sucks far worse."
The name 'Lady Ruin' leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The enigmatic leader of Utopia has always been a thorn in my side, her motivations as unknowable as they are infuriating. The thought of her meddling in my plans makes my blood boil anew.
But then, a new thought strikes me, cutting through the red haze of anger. I sit up straighter, my eyes widening as I consider the implications.
"No, no," I say, a hint of hope creeping into my voice. "If he worked for ruin, they would have told me straight up to back off of Luke."
The realization washes over me like a cool wave, soothing some of the burning frustration. A slow smile spreads across my face, my eyes glinting with renewed determination in the dim light of the boat's console.
"Which means," I purr, my voice low and filled with dark promise, "I can still have him."
I lean back in my seat, letting out a long, satisfied sigh.