Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
At the top, two men still sat behind the decorative arch.
Sin strode through it, expecting the green light of clearance.
When the light flashed red, he reacted instantly, moving faster than either of the guards.
The pistols slipped into his hands as if they were enhancements.
The slap of his skin on the metal was loud in the hollow halls.
One barrel was pointed at each of their heads.
"Sit the fuck down, and check that again," he snarled.
"You're not authorized for the executive level," the older of the two whimpered.
"I fucking am now. Tell Mr. Briggs I'm on my way, and he needs to see me."
The guard swallowed and nodded, deactivating the silent alarm. Sin smirked and continued on, glancing back before sliding his weapons into place. He passed a few more doors, then shoved open the next. A pretty girl behind the desk squeaked when the door slammed open and jumped back, her eyes wide.
"Where's Briggs?" he snarled.
"It's after hours," she gasped. "He's in a late meeting with the VPs."
"I shot six men tonight. I will talk to him or I'll be shooting a few more, do you understand? Now, where is he?"
She pointed toward the office door. Sin simply shoved his way inside. Daniel Briggs and three other executives sat around a small table, their heads snapping up at his entrance.
"Meeting's over," Sin said.
"Legate," Mr. Briggs sighed. "I'm in the middle of something."
"Not anymore," Sin told him. "Trust me, you'd prefer we talked alone, but I'm not opposed to an audience. Besides, they want to call it a night anyway."
Mr. Briggs nodded, and the others quickly grabbed their things, making their way from the room as fast as they could. Sin just sighed and pulled out an abandoned chair, sinking into it.
"You're sending them out in those kill-me-now robes." He didn't need to say who or what he was talking about. The CEO knew.
"They're standard-issue."
Sin shrugged. "Change it. Now."
"Mr. Cassis—"
"Legate," Sin corrected. "And I really don't give a shit what you think about your uniforms. The Ingénue are people too, and my only job is to protect those weaker than myself.
I just killed six men because you're adamant she wears a bright blue robe.
We stand out on the street like a beacon, begging them to jack her.
You're losing brains left and right, and I won't help you keep killing them. "
"You are only assigned to a single Ingénue," Mr. Briggs said calmly. "She is the only concern you have."
Sin leaned over the table, glaring. "I'm a fucking priest, Mr. Briggs. I have a hell of a lot more concerns than your fancy-ass contracts. I don't care if you put them in frilly dresses, but do something, or I'm leaking this shit to the press."
The pompous man across from him chuckled. "That's against your contract. You'd be in violation."
His gun hit the table with a metallic clank, and Sin smiled. "We are Legion. We are everywhere. You really want to take this to court? I promise you, OutLink isn't nearly as strong as you think. I won't fail to protect my client."
It was a bluff, but Daniel Briggs didn't know that. The Legion hadn't been that strong for almost a year—which was when Sin had started noticing the changes—but the rumors of their ties still persisted. He also wasn't exactly lying. He wouldn't fail, not unless he was dead first.
"We would prefer the Ingénue were not exposed to cultural vogues." Mr. Briggs tried next. "They require their entire minds for their job, and external factors can be a distraction."
"Then pick their clothing for them. I don't fucking care. Think of it as camouflage. At least the damned handlers get armor!"
"No Ingénue has been shot."
Sin nodded. "I know. They killed themselves with their own minds."
Mr. Briggs sighed, gesturing for Sinclair to put away the gun. "There was an error in the code. We assigned a Primary to it, and she identified the problem. The solution is almost ready."
"And how exactly are you going to test it?" Sin asked. "Have a few more of them jacked and see if they wake up?"
Mr. Briggs casually leaned back in his chair. "It's almost impossible to simulate a field environment, Legate. The problem is with the response time."
"Code them to restart, then. I'll be damned if I order that girl to wipe her mind and have her die because of it. I don't mean that figuratively, Dan."
"Then we should terminate your contract?" Mr. Briggs asked.
Sin shrugged. "You can do that. Doesn't really matter to me. I'm still morally beholden to expose the crimes against God if they're being committed with intent. Devaluing people, clones or otherwise? Yeah, kind of a problem. You really want to play this game?"
"No," Mr. Briggs admitted. "Tell me what happened tonight, Legate?"
"I'd almost gotten the girl to City Hall when a few men started paying too much attention.
I changed direction, which made it clear we had four following.
We entered a secluded alley and six approached us.
I took a few injuries," he held up his hand, the laceration next to his thumb visible, "and after killing those, we left the area, calling for backup. "
Mr. Briggs nodded. "Find any more?"
Sin shook his head. "No, but a shopkeeper said there were about eight more who had recently asked if an Ingénue had passed through. They were waiting for us."
"You know who it is?"
"Not yet," Sin told him, lifting his shirt to expose a mass of dark bruises across his body. "Needed a bit of medical attention first."
The CEO looked from the priest's waist to his hand, his face shocked. "Did the Ingénue wipe?"
"No."
"Why not?" Mr. Briggs demanded, his forehead wrinkling. Sin watched, looking for a hint of what was really going on.
"I told her the situation was under control and not to. I know about your little problem, Dan. I told you I'd take care of the girl, and I meant it."
"You can't let private data be obtained by jackers, Brother Sinclair."
Sin laughed. "There's a lot of things I don't intend to let happen. She did ask, if that's what you're worried about. That brainless little bimbo asked me if she should kill herself, and I told her no. You got a problem with that?"
Mr. Briggs sighed, shoving his head into his hands. "She wouldn't die. We don't know why yet, but Ingénue R1554-9370S-02K16 seems to have averted the error in the code."
"Explain." Because this was what Sin really wanted to know.
Mr. Briggs just lifted his hands. "God's will?
On her last diagnostic, she had the same error as the others, but her neurons remained intact.
We've lost sixteen of them—that's nearly four billion credits, Legate—and only two didn't have their cybernetic matrix obliterated.
The other took severe damage, but not the one you're protecting. "
Sin wanted to punch the man in the face. Sixteen girls, and he looked at their net investment cost, not the lives lost. Rissa was nothing more to him than a profit margin! Taking a deep breath, he prayed for patience. The man was talking, maybe he'd say something useful.
"So, I guess my Ingénue isn't a clone?"
Mr. Briggs shook his head. "No. She's not.
R1554-9370S-02K16 tested off the scale as a child.
She was donated to the program and trained from a very young age.
She's received the best education and enhancements we could offer.
This has been a long-term project, Legate.
We don't want to see it fail any more than you do. "
"Were the deceased clones?" Sin asked.
"Most, but not all. The girl who didn't immediately die? She was genetically modified in utero. Two others were early placements, like 'your' Ingénue."
Sin chuckled. "If she'd tell me her name, maybe I'd have a better way to differentiate her."
Mr. Briggs nodded. "I figured you two would be close by now."
Sin knew he was fishing, and shook his head.
"She's a fucking bot, Dan. An anti-social, spoiled princess.
About the only things I know about her is she likes to solve her 'problems' quickly, she doesn't like to be called a bitch, and she answers to Princess now.
" He grinned. "There's something pleasing about that. "
"Princess?" Mr. Briggs asked.
Sin shrugged. "Well, she is a spoiled little princess, isn't she? I don't like her, but I'm not God. He loves all His children, and it's my duty to protect them."
"And your feelings don't matter?" Mr. Briggs asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not at all. If they did, I'd ask for a drink of that whiskey on the shelf behind you." Sin stood. "If you try to send her out in a blue robe again, I'll redress her. Make this easy and change their uniform?"
"We can't," he finally admitted.
That made Sin's head twitch. "What? Why not?"
"Those robes cover them completely for a reason, Legate.
Many of those women are so scarred from their surgeries they would terrify children in the street, and that's not good for business.
The ones who healed easily from their early implants?
Over eighty percent are clones. Showing their faces means they'd be recognized as such.
Corporations would start asking for specific Ingénue by serial number.
What you're asking me to do would bankrupt this company. "
"So instead," he shot back, "you're willing to lose billions in investments?"
Mr. Briggs smiled. "It's a fraction of what OutLink makes in a day, so yes. I've already brought this up to the board of directors, and it's been decided. The Ingénue wear the robes. It's good for branding, and the best decision for our business."
"And sixteen young women have died." Sin just shook his head. "Their blood is on your hands, Danny boy. Along with those six people who died today. You'd better hope your company doesn't make you a scapegoat, because that many counts of negligent homicide? It's a death sentence."
The man simply smiled like he knew something Sin didn't. "I'm confident it will all work out. Besides, that's why we're paying so much for your help, Brother Sinclair."
"Yeah, just know that every time I have to kill someone else, I will be making a stop up here." He stepped back, intending to leave.
Daniel Briggs casually gestured at the bottle. "Did you want a glass before you go, Legate?"
"Fifth precept," Sin told him. "I must abstain. I also can't be bought, Mr. Briggs."