Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Rissa waited in the room in the back for what felt like an eternity. The clock in her head didn't agree, though. It said only twenty-one seconds had passed. Still, being alone in a shop she wasn't supposed to be inside, made her feel an increase in anxiety.
But it had worked. Seeing Sin unable to walk, she'd run through a list of scenarios until she found something feasible with a high rate of success: hiding.
Knowing she couldn't blend in while wearing her robes, she'd withdrawn as much cash as she could, then made for the first clothing store she'd seen.
The Legion worship symbol behind the service counter had been all it took for her to ask if he was a believer.
Jaime had been more than willing to proclaim his faith, and all of his micro-expressions made her believe he was truthful.
It was why she'd asked for his help, and the man had given it readily.
He'd found her clothing that wasn't revealing yet would blend in—including the mask to hide her hideous, enhanced appearance.
Once she no longer looked like an Ingénue, she'd convinced Jaime to help carry Sin inside.
The wad of bills she'd handed him had removed any hesitation.
Eventually, Trent returned. He pushed the door closed, then gently touched Rissa's arm. "Princess, huh?"
"He said I was a spoiled princess."
The tough guy laughed. "Are you?"
"No."
"Why the hell were you walking to City Hall?" he asked.
She dropped her head. "I like to walk."
"With your kind dropping like flies?" He scoffed. "Yeah, kinda surprised he lets you. I'm parked around the corner."
And with that, he decided it was time to go.
Trent gathered her things and guided her out of the store and to his small car parked around the corner.
When they reached it, he opened the door, then assisted her inside, unaware this was an entirely new experience for her.
She'd never been allowed to ride in a car.
Rissa took a deep breath. It smelled of new plastics and glues, along with the dye for the fabric seats. When he closed the door behind her, her ears popped. It didn't take long before the other door opened, and he took his place behind the controls.
"You good?" he asked. "That crap can't be easy for someone like you."
"I think I killed a man."
He shot her a surprised look. "Ok?"
"He was going to shoot Sin. I saw him on the dumpster beside us, but he didn't see me.
Brother Sin had dropped one of his weapons, and the gun was within my reach.
" She took a long breath. "The man was right there, so I pulled the trigger.
I think I killed him, but I didn't want him to kill my Legate. "
"Yeah... You gonna be able to do this transfer?" Trent asked, gently patting her leg.
"Yes." There was no other option. She could make a guess—a very educated guess—as to what Sinclair was planning, and he needed her to get this done.
Trent simply grunted, then started the car. It lifted from the ground slightly and moved into traffic. The trip was a short one, since they'd almost made it the whole way on foot.
"Hang on," Trent said, climbing out. A second later her own door opened, and his thick hand brushed the back of her arm. "Your Highness," he teased.
She stepped out, and he moved to her side, but his hand never left. Together they headed up the stairs toward the main entrance of the City Hall building. The whole time, she examined the stout man beside her. Like Sin, he didn't appear to be a typical priest.
But on his chest, the necklace with the eye was visible.
It bounced against his shirt with each step, almost as if it was demanding to be noticed.
When he saw her looking, Trent smiled down at her kindly.
Rissa felt oddly comfortable with him, almost as much as she did with Sin.
She also realized the Legates treated her more like a person than anyone else had in her life.
"Can I help you?" a woman asked when they entered.
"Ingénue R1554-9370S-02K16 has your answer," Trent said, his deep voice almost intimidating.
"Oh!" she said. "One moment."
They stood there in the marble foyer, silent.
Seconds ticked past, and then minutes, before the tread of hard-soled shoes sounded on the stairs.
Rissa knew she did not look like what was expected, but that didn't mean she shouldn't act as she'd been trained.
Anything else would get back to OutLink, and she feared a mental wipe even more now than she ever had before.
"Legate?" a woman asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Trent answered, sounding amused. "Do you need verification?"
"Please."
Rissa held up her arm, the dark lines of the barcode stark against her skin. The woman produced a reader, and a soft beep confirmed her code had been validated. Then the executive turned her eyes on Trent.
"And you?" she asked, lifting the scanner to prove what she meant.
Trent huffed at that. "Priests aren't coded."
"I still need some verification that you are who you claim to be," she insisted.
"You really want me to strip in the lobby?" he joked, pulling at the collar of his shirt to reveal a few lines of scarred flesh on his back. It looked like those lines had been burned onto him. "You know what that is as well as everyone."
The woman relaxed, making it clear she did. "OutLink changed the uniforms?"
He chuckled. "Something like that. You think it's easy to keep your data from getting jacked walking around town with a blue popsicle?"
"You had problems?" She sounded a little too unconcerned.
"A little one. Just decided to take the long way around. Now, if you're satisfied?" His lifted brow made it clear he was tired of waiting.
The woman made a noise, and Trent's hand returned to Rissa's arm, leading her after the retreating footsteps.
They went up another set of stairs and along a carpeted hallway before turning right.
She knew it was the network access point before any of them spoke.
Rissa could hear the hum of the electronics, and this place was familiar. A little too familiar.
"Ingénue?" the executive said. "If you'd like to step inside for the connection, your handler can wait here."
"No," Trent said. "Rules changed. The Ingénue is not allowed out of my sight."
"I see." The woman made another sound in the back of her throat, then spoke to someone else. "Turn those monitors."
While everyone scrambled to make sure nothing confidential was visible, Rissa stepped inside and knelt, pleased to find a soft cushion for her knees. The problem was how to expose her ports. Thankfully, the man beside her wasn't Sin. Rissa wasn't sure she could've handled him seeing her like this.
Taking a long, deep breath, she pushed back the hood and pulled what little hair she had left to the side.
That exposed the different ports on her neck with minimal exposure.
What came next was never pleasant. Even worse, Trent would be watching.
Rissa tried to steel herself for the pain, but it only made her more nervous.
The technicians didn't even ask. A warm hand simply grabbed the base of her skull and slid the probe inside.
She reminded herself to breathe normally, not to react, and it almost worked.
She only stiffened at the invasion slightly.
Returning to a relaxed pose, she closed her eyes and accepted the network's request. Her fingers rested against her knees, and her chin dropped to her chest, trying to hide her shame from the people she knew were watching.
Then it hit. The system in City Hall was much more advanced than most, and it ripped the data from her mind.
Rissa clenched her jaw, her fingers digging into her own flesh.
She was able to hold it, but only for a few seconds.
Before she was even halfway through the download, the cold searing of her nerves became too much.
She arched her back away from the port, seeking to evade that which was a part of her now.
Clenching her teeth was her only defense against the scream that wanted out.
It didn't silence the sound though, only muffled it.
Her eyes flew open, and she pressed her hands to her face, desperate to hide the tears welling in her eyes.
Sucking in another long deep breath, she silenced herself, but she couldn't make her body relax.
She couldn't stop the pain until the data was out.
Pressing at her mind, she pushed at the link, forcing it to move as fast as possible, but it only increased the pain.
"Ingénue," a deep voice said. Then Trent's hands wrapped around hers.
"She's fine," the woman snapped. "They all do this."
"You do your job," Trent growled back, "and I'll do mine. Ingénue?"
She nodded. Unfortunately, she couldn't do anything else. Her body was too fixated on trying to flee. Only her will stopped it, but Trent never let go of her hands, his fingers twining in hers.
"Seventy-three percent," she breathed, hoping to reassure him.
"Fuck," he whispered. "Hope you people pay through the nose for this shit, because she is."
The executive sighed. "She's a walking bot. This is probably the best thing she does all day."
"How sad is that," Trent agreed. "Where are we at, girl?"
"Eighty-two," Rissa mumbled.
His support helped. It didn't make it hurt less, but it made her feel less alone.
The anger in his voice gave her justification for her own emotions even as the data cut at every one of her nerves.
She blinked, feeling tears on her cheek, and took a long shuddering breath before pushing at the connection again.
Her only comfort was the tiny packet hidden deep in the front of her mind.
If they were so willing to hack at her brain, then she'd return the favor by hacking their precious illegal data.
At just over ninety percent, her body gave in to the pain.
When she would have collapsed, Trent's hands held her, giving her stability.
She looked up into his face, trying to memorize it, hoping to keep her thoughts distracted from the ice that had begun to run down to her legs.
Just as the shards reached her knees, it stopped.
Rissa gasped, collapsing into Trent's arms.
"The transfer is complete," she whispered.
"Unhook her," Trent demanded.
"Let me make sure," the woman said.
From behind them, a technician spoke up. "File is complete and shows no signs of corruption. The response is encrypted."
"Then unhook her." The woman gestured at Rissa's body.
Trent reached around to the base of her neck and carefully twisted the cable. His method was smooth and gentle. When she sighed, he slid the probe out, careful not to drag it against her connections, removing it cleanly—and oddly without discomfort.
"We're done," he said, lifting her to her feet.
"Did she delete the copy?" the woman demanded.
"Yes, ma'am," the technician said.
"Then we're done. Can you find your way out, Legate?"
"Yeah. You don't have to ask me twice," Trent grumbled. "I suddenly remember why I hate self-righteous corporate types. May God forgive you all."
He scooped Rissa into his arms and stormed out, holding her carefully to his chest as he hurried down the stairs. Turning in place, he pressed open the door with his back, then resumed his pace, never slowing until he reached the car.
"Ok, Princess," he said softly. "You have to stand up long enough for me to get you into this car."
"I'm fine," she assured him.
He set her carefully on her feet but never let go. With one hand, he pulled open the door, the other guiding her inside. "You gonna be ok?"
Rissa smiled. "I just need a minute. I'm fine."
He closed her in but she could still hear his voice, muffled by the vehicle until the door opened on the other side. "-sucking douche bag fuckers. God in Heaven, what are they thinking?"
"That I'm off the net," Rissa said, answering the rhetorical question.
Trent's rant stopped immediately. "Everything can be traced, though, right? One way or another, it all has an identifier." He started the car, and pulled away, shooting one last glare back at the building they'd just left.
"Ingénues have no MAC address, no IP address—nothing." Rissa shrugged. "No wireless connectivity, either."
Trent's lips curled into a smile. "Sinclair know that?"
Rissa nodded, her head feeling too light. "Yes. That's why he wants to see me. I have a file in my frontal lobe."
"Um, I'm not really up to date on the latest technology, but isn't that impossible?"
"Not for me," she assured him. "I'm gonna need a data connection to a machine that's offline. Also, a really soft place to sit would be nice."
"Ah shit," he muttered. "You're gonna fucking do that again?"
"Yes," Rissa whispered, daring to glance over. "Please don't tell him?"
"He doesn't know how much that rips you up?" He sucked air through his teeth. "No deal, Princess. How the fuck did you hide that from a Legate?"
"He's not usually allowed in the room," she said, her eyes feeling heavy. "He appears to have suspicions of my discomfort, but I would prefer he never learns the true level."
"No deal," Trent said again. "I've never heard of it being painful before. I mean, that's what that was, right?"
"They altered my polymodal nociceptor neurons," Rissa said. "That is one of the many things they removed when I was a child to make me more efficient. My brain has compensated. I feel the data. I can manipulate the data."
"And it hurts?"
"Like pulling your intestines out, or so I'd assume, although that only applies when it transfers too quickly." She leaned her head back against the seat. "I'm just going to close my eyes for a moment, ok?"
"Yeah, kid. I'll wake you when we get there."