Cybernetic Angel (Sin’s City #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Sin dropped his cigarette in a puddle as he passed, rings of reflected holographic signs radiating from the impact.

Ignoring it, he yanked open the glass door and stormed inside.

People in suits and lab coats moved out of his way quickly, probably because of the guns he wore strapped across his body.

Weapons tended to have that effect, just like the sound of his boots ringing out on the marble floors killed the noise around him.

He even made sure to glare as he looked over each person in the overly-modern lobby.

Yes, it was a show, but nothing made him happier than watching stupid corporate fucks scurry like rats to get out of his way.

These people were used to everyone bowing and groveling before them.

He was more than happy to remind them that they weren't really important; they only wished they were.

He made it halfway across the lobby before a brazen man in a bold suit walked toward him. "Sinclair Cassis?"

"Legate," he corrected. "Otherwise, yes."

The executive acted like he didn't truly care. "My apologies, Legate. Please follow me."

They walked up a single flight of glass stairs and through a chrome archway. As soon as they passed it, a small light blinked and two men stood straighter. Recognizing a security alert, Sin's fingers brushed the hilt on his thigh out of habit, ready to defend himself.

"You're kidding, right?" he grumbled. "I'm not losing the fucking guns."

"You aren't expected to, Legate," the executive assured him with a false smile. "Stand down, men - he's being assigned clearance now."

"Yes, Mr. Briggs." The guard nodded nervously.

Sin filed that away as they moved down the hall.

This cyborg bitch must be pretty damned important if Daniel Briggs, the CEO of OutLink Corp.

, was meeting him personally. Granted, it wasn't every day the Legion accepted a contract with a corporation, either.

For the millionth time, he wondered what he'd done wrong to be the one assigned to it. Unfortunately, he had a few guesses.

At the end of the hall stood a pair of massive wooden doors that led into a large conference room.

Mr. Briggs gestured for Sin to enter, then followed.

Inside, four executives sat around a curved table.

An empty chair had been placed conspicuously before them.

With a patronizing smile, the CEO walked past and motioned for Sin to take it.

"I'm fine." Sin fell into an easy parade rest.

Mr. Briggs moved around the table to take his own place. "We have a few things to go through."

"I'm sure."

"What do you know of the Ingénue Project?" a woman asked, jumping right into it.

"Brains for hire," Sin answered. "Cybernetically enhanced minds for increased computational abilities. It's assumed they're genetically modified to be more intelligent. All of them appear to be women."

"And?" a man asked, leaning forward.

"And I don't fucking care," Sin assured him. "So they're walking geniuses who solve your corporate screw-ups. You want me to keep one safe, and God has decided it's my purpose to do just that."

"Mr. Cassis," the CEO said coolly, but Sin cut him off.

"I respond to Legate or Brother, Mr. Briggs. I am not a mister."

Daniel Briggs nodded, moistening his lips with his tongue in an attempt to hide the frustration in his jaw.

"This position is simple. Escort the Ingénue to her destination.

Usually, that's once a day, no more than six days a week and no less than two.

The contractor will provide the data ports where her solution will be downloaded into any terminal of their choice.

It's the nuances that become problematic. "

"Go on."

"Ingénues carry information, which is rather desirable. They're trained to trigger a data dump to prevent it from being obtained by anyone besides their contractor. In other words, this woman's only concern is fulfilling her contract. She will not even speak to you except to verify a direct order."

"That's preferable," he said, thinking this job might not be as bad as he'd feared.

The man lifted a brow as if Sin's comment surprised him. "You must also protect the physical body of the Ingénue. They're known for their mental acuity, not their grace."

He wanted to sigh, but resisted the urge. Dear God, he was going to be babysitting a stumbling, fumbling genius. If he had to wipe her ass, he would—simply because the Praetor had commanded it—but there had better be a damned good reason for this.

Their next line of questioning regarded his previous experience as a personal protector.

They asked about his mission failures and he answered each question as honestly as he could, but left off the part about his enhancements.

He had no interest in reliving how he'd lost part of his right arm, his right eye, and the use of his legs.

He'd saved the client as he'd been directed, which was all that mattered.

Cybernetics had repaired the damage. He was as functional as any other man now.

Evidently, his answers worked. The group of executives seemed more than pleased and were damned near drooling on their expensive suits at the prospect of a true Legate guardian. The glint in their eyes was nauseating.

"We will need a retinal imprint to give you clearance into the Enclave, as well as a thumbprint," said the man at the end.

Sin nodded and a technician walked up from the side, holding up a scanner to his right eye. "Other side," he said with a sneer.

"The cybernetic cortex will suffice. The system reads the right side," Mr. Briggs assured him.

Impressive. Not many facilities could track the minor deviations of cybernetic enhancements.

Unfortunately, impressive also meant threatening.

Begrudgingly, he looked into the scanner, saw the brief red flare, then pulled off his glove.

He had three real fingers remaining on his right hand.

They appeared to be enough, since the technician nodded and left the room without a word.

Calmly he pushed his hand back into the soft leather, glancing up to the executives. "Are we done here?"

Mr. Briggs smiled. "I have requested the Ingénue to be brought to us. Is there anything you will need?"

Sin looked over the three men and two women who made up OutLink's board of directors. "Fifteen minutes alone with her. I know I'll be monitored, but I need to assess my client."

"We are your client, Legate Cassis. She is merely the package."

"I am not a courier service, Mr. Briggs," he countered, struggling not to snap at the executive. "If you want me to protect an individual, then I must assess the individual's movements and mannerisms, without the distraction of her..."—he couldn't stop his lips from twisting in disgust—"superiors."

"That can be arranged," the last woman said. "I'm afraid you'll be sadly disappointed, though."

Sin nodded once. "I expect to be."

All five of them looked up at his words and he smiled lazily. Executives. Spoiled pompous pigs who thought they owned everyone else. Before they could speak again, the door behind him opened, but Sin didn't turn.

What he heard told him all he needed to know: soft shoes, probably slippers, and a dress or other long fabric. Those weren't clothes for function, but rather for luxury. Surprisingly, there was no perfume. Without a word, the Ingénue glided into the room, moved to the side, and knelt supplicant.

"Legate Sinclair Cassis," Mr. Briggs said, "May I introduce Ingénue R1554-9370S-02K16."

Finally, he turned and acknowledged her existence.

She, however, did not return the favor. Spoiled bitch, he thought, seeing her deep blue robe.

A hood and veil were pulled over three-quarters of her face, leaving only her eyes visible.

He'd expected her to be fat, or at least plump—most private brains were.

Instead, she was extremely lean, her delicate limbs peeking from the edge of the robe.

"Ingénue?" Mr. Briggs asked.

"Yes, sir?" She spoke softly, her voice lyrical but almost bored.

"Legate Sinclair Cassis is being assigned as your handler. Do you understand?"

"I do. Thank you."

He turned back to Sin. "Is there anything else you need, Legate?"

"Fifteen minutes," he said again. "Alone."

"Certainly." Mr. Briggs smiled knowingly. "Her technician will be right outside. Let him know if you need any additional time...or anything else."

"Yeah," he grunted, looking at the girl.

Ok, so she wasn't quite like he expected.

He knew about the Ingénue—everyone did by now—but she didn't fit the things he'd heard whispered.

To start with, she wasn't making demands.

However, she acted like she was already over this minor inconvenience, refusing to even look at him.

Then again, knowing how much her time was worth, he was probably costing her millions with this meet and greet.

While the room cleared, he said nothing, waiting for the door to click behind them. Not surprisingly, it locked as well. Now was when most people would make small talk or try to get to know him. This girl? She never moved.

"Ok, Ingénue," he grumbled, walking over to her. "What is it you need from me?"

"I do not have an assignment," she said, not even raising her head.

So he wasn't worth her time, was that what she was implying? Or was she already busy with another one of their big-credit problems?

"And when you do?" he tried.

Her eyes shifted almost imperceptibly, the first human reaction she'd had. "Then I will need you to assist me with completing the data transfer."

He laughed. "Girl, I don't do data." When she refused to respond, he tried again, gruffly. "What does that entail?"