Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The next week had been more of the same, except for the friendly conversation, because the girl had finally started talking to him.
Barely. Surveillance was still a big problem.
But every day, Sin picked up his client at the OutLink building, escorted her across town, waited while she did her thing, and returned her undamaged.
Twice, he'd caught sight of someone trailing them and had altered their course.
He couldn't be sure if she'd been targeted or not, but that damned blue robe she wore marked her as an Ingénue, and therefore valuable.
He rolled over in bed, thinking about it.
Fourteen Ingénue had been hit now. OutLink had been more than happy to share that information, but they tried to hide how many had been lost. So far, the total was up to twelve who'd died in their attempts to wipe their own mind, and one had been rendered useless to the company and retired.
Retired. Sent to a mental hospital was more like it, to have her precious cybernetics removed, left with a partial brain.
No wonder his client was so important to them.
Not only had she wiped her mind, but she was also still functioning perfectly.
A tickle in the back of his head notified him of a message, and with a groan, he sat up, pressing the button over his temple.
In his cybernetic eye, words scrolled, notifying him of yet another date with his little princess.
Twelve days, and he'd been called to escort her eleven times.
He acknowledged the summons and pulled himself up, grabbing a cigarette on his way to the toilet.
The strangest thing was, he'd started to look forward to seeing her.
Maybe it was because she was so smart, but he felt like even their small talk was layered with nuances.
Then there were those eyes. He'd told Trent they were windows to the soul, but he'd had no idea how right he was.
It was like he could see her every emotion in those silver depths.
He dressed, smothering the butt of his smoke in the overfull ashtray, and strapped on his guns. This time, he took the subway. It was a short trip to OutLink Corp., and the stares of those around him were amusing. Some bowed their heads respectfully; others stared with open amazement.
There weren't many priests like him: protectors of the weak, guardians of those who couldn't care for themselves.
The Legion had revived the idea of the warrior priest, and Sinclair was one of the best. He'd been named Imperator, or the highest-ranked Legate, because of it.
Those who followed the religion knew what the winged symbol on his armor meant.
Those who didn't still probably knew - they simply refused to believe he was anything but a gun for hire.
He arrived at the receiving area long before his client was ready.
In the time he'd been babysitting his angel, he'd learned her identification number well enough to pick it out of the list. She was downloading, so it shouldn't be too long of a wait.
Sinking into a chair, he slipped on his sunglasses and closed his eyes for a bit, catching up on the sleep he'd lost the night before helping his fellow priests.
The click of the door woke him. Glancing at the screen, he saw she was still receiving data, but he glanced at the door regardless.
Another woman in a blue robe glided out, as calm and manicured as his own Ingénue, but this one was short.
Like his Princess, she was also lean, but this girl's eyes were definitely brown.
Mr. Briggs had readily admitted many were clones, but he'd carefully avoided saying if his client was one, and Sin couldn't help but wonder.
His gut said she wasn't, which was why she'd managed to survive the data wipe.
Then again, OutLink probably hoped he didn't know about that.
A man entered, nodded to the Ingénue once, and grabbed her elbow, guiding her out of the room.
He basically manhandled the poor girl, but she didn't even flinch, accepting the treatment as normal.
Then there was how the man had never even thought of Sin as a possible threat.
It seemed the company handlers were as inept as the executives.
A moment later the door opened again, and this time the girl was his responsibility. "Ingénue," he said politely.
"Legate," she responded formally.
"So, where are we going today?"
Those creases made another appearance around her eyes. "SiSec LLC," she said, the faintest hint of amusement in her voice.
He reached his hand up, gently resting his fingers against the delicate flesh of her arm, and guided her from the building. "Princess, you pick the strangest places," he teased, trying to be humorous.
He could never tell when his words offended her—not usually—because she kept her emotions too tightly controlled.
He assumed those crinkles meant she was smiling, but it could have easily been a grimace, and she hadn't exactly felt the need to tell him.
Since he'd never even seen most of her face, her eyes were all he had to go on.
"What's our time frame?" he asked.
"Six hours for completion."
He made an affirmative noise, showing he understood. "And how long will you need?"
That twitch of her eyes again. "Twenty-one minutes, approximately."
Since she typically solved her problems in under ten minutes, that meant this had to be a big or complicated one. He couldn't ask about it. That would get her in trouble, but the stillness when they were under surveillance always felt wrong to him.
So he said, "Princess, you're getting quick. Did you want to walk or catch a ride?" They were almost a block away from the OutLink building now—which should be outside their surveillance—at the junction where he'd need to pick a direction. Left for public transit, right if they decided to walk.
He'd obviously confused her. "I get to choose?"
"Yeah, why not? Or is that too simple of a problem for your precious mind?" He winked, hoping she'd take that for the joke it was meant to be.
"Is it ok if we walk?" She refused to look at him.
"Yeah. That's why I asked. Shit, girl. I'm not that big of a dick."
"Usually," she muttered, finally flicking her eyes his way.
He stopped, pulling her around to face him. "Was that a bad attempt at a joke?"
He watched her pupils flare. "Was the comment about my mind one?"
"Yes!" He huffed out a sound which could only be described as a growl. "I was trying to make you smile under that veil. Shit, what more do you want from me?"
The stoic facade crumbled in seconds. She clenched her right hand at her side, and snapped, "I was trying to do the same thing you were, and you didn't like it, so why did you think I would?
" She pulled in a deep breath. "You're supposed to be my friend.
The only person I can talk to freely, but every time I try, I feel like I'm making a complete mess of it.
I didn't learn how to do this in my training, ok? "
He paused, his mouth hanging half open. "You're trying to mimic me?"
"You're the only example I have," she mumbled. "No one else talks to me."
He nodded his head once. "Yeah. Princess, I'm probably not the best example of how to be nice, just so you know." He lifted his hand and scrubbed at his mouth. "Maybe try thinking about how something would make you feel before you say it? Sarcasm's probably going to take a bit."
"I was trying," she said, shuffling along beside him.
"And you thought calling me a dick was ok?" he asked, lifting a brow to make his point.
"Calling me a bitch is?"
He stopped again. "That was the first day. You're still pissed about that?"
"No," she said, but he knew she was lying.
"Rissa, I was trying to see if you'd react to anything. You did—barely."
"Sorry." She swallowed, then blinked her eyes quickly as if trying to force back the moisture.
It was not the response he'd expected. Maybe he'd been a little too hard on her.
The poor thing barely knew when to come in out of the rain, and like she said, she didn't exactly have friends to tell her when she was out of line.
The worst part was, he felt like shit for calling her a bitch that day, now that he knew what kind of a hellhole she was living in.
"Ok," he said. "So how about we try this again, you and me? I think we're coming at this from two very different places and keep expecting the other to know things they don't."
"Ok," she agreed.
He smiled at her proudly. "Next, we just have to figure out small talk so we're not pissing each other off all the time." He reached over and palmed her shoulder, turning her up the street to walk again. "Let's start with when you became an Ingénue. Did you move up from another position?"
"I was always an Ingénue."
His head twitched. "Wait. What do you mean? Ingénue are always adults!"
"I told you I received my implants when I was three.
At that time, I was in training. The next upgrade was done when I was five.
It allowed me to begin solving internal problems for the company.
At fifteen we're upgraded again and randomly tested on problems other Ingénue have already solved.
At twenty, we receive our adult implants, transferred to the latest technology, and hired out as initiate Ingénue.
It's all well documented, and we're encouraged to access those records, which include our debts.
OutLink promises us upgrades every five years after we're officially working for them.
That's why I believe I'm twenty-five, because I recently had an upgrade. I suppose I could be thirty."
"Dear God," he breathed. "All of that is so wrong. Never mind the childhood implantations! That's…" He grumbled. "It should be illegal."
"It requires proper protocols," she explained. "Since OutLink was my legal guardian, they consented, got the paperwork, and went through the necessary channels."