- AD -

Ysadora breathed deeply, the sound of a martial beat coming from the sound system in her training room, her right hand high above her head, firmly grasping the wooden hilt of a strange-looking sword. It wasn’t a typical sword, however: the blade was a thick curled block of chain, with diamond-tip shaped slits across all the blade.

The martial rhythm beat suddenly shaped to include a secondary rhythm; Ysadora pressed on a discrete switch on her hilt, and the blade uncurled, straightening in a slim, flexible thirty-three inches double-sided blade. Ysadora began to breathe following the rhythm, and the words of her instructor resonated in her mind:

“Breathe throughout your body, not just your lungs; fill every muscle, leave not a single part untouched by your breathing...”

“Become aware of every minuscule muscle in your body, and move them. Make your body one with your mind; feel every movement, and move every part...”

“Feel with your head, not with your heart. Disconnect all emotions, all sensory inputs that could distract you...”

“Feel the presence of pain, for it will save your life; but do not fall to its limitations. Conquer and endure pain, lift your perceptions above that of useless senses...”

“Move to the rhythm of Gaea; feel the wind, the ground, the density of air or of water. Tune to it, and feel your opponent’s intentions as they are carried through Gaea’s currents...”

As the rhythm suddenly picked up into a full-blown music, Ysadora began her martial practice, her sword and her body moving into a fast and deadly dance of war composed of kicks, blocks, punches, elbow and knees hits, slashes, whips, flow eight figures and windmills. Not a single movement was set aside, not an angle dismissed, from neither her sword or her physical attacks.

At the apogee, Ysadora pressed another switch on her hilt, and the sword underwent a sudden change: the blade separated alongside the diamond-tip-shaped slits, and it transformed into a long chain, measuring seven feet from the hilt to the tip of the weapon, a small triangular blade that once formed the tip of the sword. Seamlessly adapting to this weapon change, Ysadora moved as elegantly as a dancer as she spun the new weapon around her like a barrier, or forwarded it in swift and fluid motions for long-range attacks, not missing one beat nor her imaginary targets.

For the next fifteen minutes of practice, without any loss in speed or efficiency, she had moved back and forth from physical, sword and chain attacks and defences, her deadly dance as thorough and perfect in execution as expected of a master.

It was however interrupted by a knock on her door, and Ysadora stopped fluidly her practice and turned the music down. She retracted her weapon into its sword shape, hid it behind her back, and grabbed a folder off her desk. She would think of a better hiding place later when she would have plenty of occasions to distract her guest.

“Enter,” she announced, leaning casually against the table, as if deep in study.

Randall entered the room, and paused as he noticed her stance.

“Is it safe?” he asked worryingly, discreetly stepping back into the door’s entrance.

Ysadora walked over to her desk, snapped back the sword into its curled shape, and laid it securely in its sheath inside the hidden compartment underneath the drawers.

“It is now,” she reassured Randall as she applied an antitoxin topical cream on her hands for his safety. He moved further into the room and looked her over.

“Aren’t you supposed to practice in your designated uniform?” he wondered; Ysadora looked down at her office dress.

“Usually; but I also practice with any other formal clothes, as I must be prepared no matter what the occasion,” she explained, picking up a nearby towel to dry herself. “I got bored at the office so I thought I’d head out and practice.”

“Incredible; and you don’t even look as if you’re out of breath. You truly do justice to your master,” Randall admired, though his smile was hollow.

“Thank you; though I’m afraid that even now, I’m nothing compared to his other students.”

“Only because your body limitations cannot perform such inhuman physical tasks as the other students could. But no other can best you at your art because of your dedication and perseverance despite those perceived failings. That much should make you proud.”

“I am,” Ysadora smiled. “What did you wish to see me about?”

“There is an issue I would like you to resolve; it must be done unofficially, and Scott would not be qualified,” Randall began, referring to their unofficial garbage man, Scott Johnson.

“What, or rather, who is it?” Ysadora asked.

“A rich Hollandt entrepreneur, Jan Andersen, acquired the funds and means to begin a space colony. Right now, he’s undergoing negotiations with the International Federation of Gnasci to make it official. He must be stopped from it, if we want our own plans to progress unhindered,” Randall explained.

“Can’t he be made into a useful competitor, like those before him?”

“Not this time. His system will be based on direct democracy, not on autocracy; we could try to infiltrate his colony with agents and control it through there, but the time and resources required makes it an unprofitable solution. It’s best if he is eliminated. His colony would be completely independent if we let him go through with his plans. It could cause a real danger to our plans.”

“No problem. I will take care of it. Where can I find him?”

Randall coldly smirked.

“Here’s why I said you’re more qualified than Scott for this one. Andersen has a predilection for the Rouge Lux District, in Amaesteldam, during his visits... The thing is, at his age, his heart condition is rather fragile...”

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“How unfortunate,” Ysadora smirked with an equal mischief. “Consider it done. I will do my utmost to solve your issue without witnesses.”

“And if there are, you are free to deal with them in any way. If anything goes out of control about it, we will use Scott as a scapegoat.”

Ysadora frowned in worry.

“I doubt our superiors will take this action kindly; Scott is after all their emissary to keep us in check.”

“Scott can take care of himself in these situation; and I doubt the superiors would mind if it’s done to protect their plan.”

Randall turned without saying more, and walked out of the room. Ysadora went to the desk, opened a drawer, and picked up a locked box; she delicately took from it a hairstick. Twisting it in a specific way, the hairstick opened in two, revealing a small vial with a clear liquid; it was linked to both ends of the stick, one extremity being a needle-like pin, and the other, a bulkier extremity where rested a very small discreet mechanism to push the liquid into the needle. Ysadora smiled proudly at its sight, and closed the hairstick again, nestling it temporarily in her hairbun. She then gave a call to her assistant.

“Daniel? I’m going to need your assistance for Situation 6.”

“Understood, ma’am,” her assistant replied.

********* AE *********

Night was well underway as trance music filled the specialized nightclub Delicatue, as many of the world’s most prominent celebrities enjoyed the night’s various pleasures away from the eyes of the public. Many were dancing on the dance floor, whereas most of the more prominent ones settled on resting on the many soft couches, or at the bar stools, listening to music, enjoying a couple of drinks and other delicacies allowed only in Amaesteldam, and taking delight in the spectacle from the professional erotic dancers. Some others, nestled in their private nooks, were enjoying the company of the club’s escorts. Amongst this last category of guests was the inventor and entrepreneur Jan Andersen, and his right hand, Hinrich Strömberg, as they were sharing a good time, surrounded by their two usual escorts, and drinking cocktails.

“So how did the negotiations go, Jan?” Risa asked the entrepreneur, playfully running her fingers up and down on his dress shirt, while Michelle was talking with Hinrich. “You seem in a good mood; and this time, the drinks have nothing to do with it!”

“So far so good!” Jan answered happily, his arm around her waist, feeling her soft skin beneath her dress. They all knew each other since six years, and nothing much was prohibited between themselves, except having fun and giving it… at the conditions the required fee was met with.

“That’s great to know!” Risa squealed excitedly, hugging him tighter. “That means soon, you’ll be living amongst the stars… How wonderful would it be?”

“Indeed… But there’s a chance it won’t be in my lifetime… I have so few years left,” Jan sighed, rustling the few grey hairs that were left.

“Don’t say that, Jan. You’re still young and full of life!” Risa comforted him, planting a soft kiss on his cheeks.

“I don’t believe you,” he teased her, nudging away from her kisses. “Besides, I’m doing this for everyone else. For Hinrich’s generations, and for yours, Risa...”

Risa laughed.

“Nah, don’t say that, we both know it’s not true; anyhow, your wife will be furious if you do this for us girls,” she poked him, faking disapproval.

Jan smiled kindly at her, and then Hinrich turned to him to cheer and toast with his newly served glass, the girls giggling at some inside joke. The song playing in the background began to fade, and as the new one slowly rose into existence, the club’s host picked up a microphone and addressed the clients.

“Welcome back ladies and gentlemen, are you still having fun?” the clients cheered and the host continued, “Well, Light of the Night is beginning, and who better to illustrate this song, than our beautiful and ravishing guest dancer, ‘Aurum’!”

The clients cheered excitedly as the lights began to probe, and an athletic tall woman, slim yet gifted with all the right curves, clothed lightly with a showing translucid black dress, climbed as elegantly as a cat upon the dancing table, her hips and her body moving to the rhythm in a hypnotic dance of seduction. Her platinum blond hair, held up in a loose braid by a discrete hairstick, flew around her, as if framing her curves; but all the clients were taken by the dancer’s turquoise eyes as the lights enhanced their sparkle.

“Who’s that?” Michelle asked Risa, just as much captivated by the dancer’s beauty as the clients.

“I don’t know, but she sure is gorgeous; I wouldn’t mind dating her for more than a few nights...” Risa admired, her eyes glazing over the dress which hid nothing from the imagination. She turned playfully toward Jan: “For tonight, I don’t think either of us would mind if you decide to pay for her; after all, I’m sure she’s worth a lot, and half of it will still go to our club!”

Jan rested his glass, not leaving his eyes off the dancer.

“I believe it’s what I’ll do, then.”

**

Noticing the stares upon her, especially those of her target, Ysadora Dawn smiled derisively: it wasn’t hard to trap human beings. Noticing her target’s escorts leaving him to meet with other clients, and he brandishing a thick pack of bills, she climbed on the wide wooden rail that circled the whole club, upon which the seated clients could rest their arms or their drinks. Elegantly jumping from each section, she reached Jan Andersen’s private nook, and she doubled her moves in front of him, enticing him with her movements; if there was one thing she was better at than fighting, it was her seduction skills. It also helped that she had no qualms to trick her targets in such a way, even if others would have found her situation dishonourable; to her, it was just another way of reaching and eliminating her target, and an easy one at that.

Jan smiled with appreciation, and as Ysadora lowered to his level, he slipped the pack of bills up her thigh under the end of her undergarment; he used this gesture to caress her skin, to which she answered with a suggestive smile.

“If you wish, for the amount of money you gave me, you can have a private session,” she said to him in a soft voice, brushing delicately her fingers alongside the sensitive spot running from his neckline up to his chin, locking his sight with hers.

“I hoped so,” he answered.

Seeing the disappointed look of Jan’s aide Hinrich, Ysadora smiled at him, and said:

“One customer at a time, dear sir; I’ll come back to see you after,” and she blew him a kiss; Hinrich smiled happily, and nodded in agreement as Ysadora took Jan’s hand, and jumping down the rail, led him to the discreetly hidden stairs.

As Jan installed himself comfortably on the love seat, Ysadora mounted him, and never leaving her eyes off his, she slowly began to unbutton his shirt, his own hands caressing her hips as he began rolling up her skirt; she took off her hairstick, and let her hair come loose as she leaned over him. Her hair covered both their heads as she laid a kiss on his lips; smiling softly as his field of vision was now impaired, and he completely distracted, she applied delicately the hairstick against his neck, pressing on the hidden switch at the other end. She leaned back, and watched with satisfaction at the few small seconds that it took the poison she just injected to reach Jan’s heart. His eyes opened wide open as he searched for breath, his hand clutching his chest, and she unmounted him, putting back the now-empty hairstick in her hair. Blowing him a kiss as Jan drew his last breath, she turned on

her heels, and discreetly descended the stairs, on the look-out.

Looking at the crowded nightclub, she knew that witnesses were indeed inevitable, as feared; her eyes surveyed the drinks as her nose suddenly picked up the smell of more potent intoxicants. She smiled mischievously, and walked to the backstage, disappearing behind the swing door.