෴Raz෴

෴෴෴෴෴෴

Career Opportunities

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Thinking about his job had taken Raz back to the conversation that set him on his current path.

He was seated in the Vice President's office, sinking comfortably into one of the chairs in the informal lounge area.

“So Raz, you’ve been quite the rising star around here. There is a lot of talk about you and that Director position Harry is going to retire out of at the end of the fiscal year. What are your thoughts on that?”

Raz swallowed. “Well, sir,”

The older man raised his hand and stopped him, “Raz, we’re in private, and I just told you we’re considering you for a Director position. Call me Clive.”

“All right Clive, well I have to say, I’m glad to be considered. I guess I don’t need to tell you that I’m currently assuming most of the Duties that were left when Harry went on medical leave.”

Clive smiled, “That's true, his admin has kept us appraised, and you’ve stepped up as well as anyone could have hoped. That's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you today. There is something you need to know if you want to put your name in for the job. The board has spoken, and there is a policy going into place next month that will affect this position. Have you heard anything?”

Raz had heard rumors about a new policy for all dept heads and above. He nodded. “I’ve heard some things, but I can't say I’ve heard anything definite enough to make a good guess.”

Clive smiled. “Playing it close to the vest, that's a good habit to be in. Let me spell it out for you. You can stay in your current job as long as you like. We love you as a department head, and your great work there is one of the reasons you were tapped to fill in for Harry.”

He shook his head and sighed. “But if you want that director spot or any director spot in this company, you’re going to need to get a relevant ability. It’s an industry trend the board has taken a liking to.”

Raz’s heart sank. “I take it you aren't speaking of my technical and leadership abilities.”

Clive frowned. “I wish I was. Your people respect, and maybe even more importantly, like you. That’s a less common combination than you might imagine. That alone is saying something around here, and would normally be all you really needed. But things have changed. The reason I’m giving you this heads up is that Walker already has a rank one ability. It’s barely relevant, but this is such a new policy that no one has spelled out what counts as a relevant ability. The thing is, you and I both know what a disaster Walker would be in a director role.”

Raz thought of working directly for Walker and suppressed a shudder.

Clive stood and put his hand on Raz’ shoulder. “I see you understand the situation. He isn't ready for that, and your whole division would suffer if it happens. But, as I said, the board has spoken, and I have a very limited ability to influence this when his retirement is official.”

He walked back to his desk and sat down. “In fact Mr. Owens, this heads up is the extent of the influence I can exert over this. I hope you’ll make the right decision.”

He knew a dismissal when he heard one, and walked back to his office with a lot on his mind.

Raz woke abruptly, his dream rudely interrupted by a pair of guards grabbing his arms and picking him up.

He struggled reflexively until he inhaled another cold chemical spray.

෴Leon Braithwaite෴

෴Krystah෴

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In the Hallway

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Krystah was a slightly heavy set woman with short blue hair, and a near permanent scowl that made her look older than she was. She hitched up the light brown security guard uniform and wondered for the hundredth time what she’d done to deserve to be there. The job at hand was walking her rounds. Like most other jobs there, she did it without enthusiasm. The patrol requirement was to get close enough to activate the little check in boxes located at various points in the building with her proximity activated security guard fob within a certain time frame, but other than that, if she was being honest, all she wanted to get through the day without running into Braithwaite or Lisa, for very different reasons.

She turned the corner leading to the hallwith with the labs and saw him standing in a doorway grinning at something. On someone else she would have called it a maniacal expression. On Braithwaite, it was just his regular face. His creepy look made her shudder as usual. The only saving grace was that he wasn’t looking at her. Every time he smiled at her she was certain that he was finally about to murder her or worse.

She shifted to the other side of the hall and hoped she could walk past him without him seeing. As she got closer she realized why he was smiling. By the sounds of the screams, one of his “subjects” was either dying or wishing he was dying.

As far as she could tell, Leon Braithwaite had an unabashed love for hearing prisoners beg and plead. She watched his face as she approached, hoping he wouldn't get bored with it and notice her. She knew even the joy he seemed to receive from the pain of others seemed to have its limits, and if the sounds of crying and begging began to get on his nerves before she got past him, he would turn and see her.

She clenched her jaw tight to prevent herself from swearing when he turned away from the screaming old man in the chair and looked at her. She nodded to him, hoping he didn’t want to talk.

Braithwaite fell in beside her and matched her pace down the hallway. "Good morning Krystah, how’s security flunky #4 doing this morning?"

Once upon a time, Krystah would have told him to fuck right off and or die. She would have been quick to tell anyone, and especially any man who was less than obsequious, exactly where to go and how to get there. Once upon a time, that had included her parents and employers. When her vitriolic words ceased to satisfy her anymore, she turned to violence and soon had a growing relationship with the police and then her probation officer.

When numerous judicial slaps on the wrist failed to reform her tendency toward violence, she finally landed in the big house. That loud mouth hadn't served her well at all in prison, where bluster and insults were met with decisive action and fair fights were considered a quaint and outmoded idea, so by the time her parole officer met her, she'd learned some self control the very hardest way.

The rest of her self control she'd learned here on the job. She'd heard enough stories from the cons that were in and out of prison and jail during her time spent as an inmate to know that a company that truly doesn’t care about her record might be bad news.Unfortunately it was that same record that made finding decent work so very hard.

She’d been ready for, and even on some level expecting any number of semi shady dealings in a company that didn’t mind hiring former criminals. She hadn’t been expecting to be hired, given a tour of the facility, and then told point blank that if she was fired or left for almost any reason, they would kill her and every family member they could get to.

As horrified as hearing this made her, it was nothing compared to how she was feeling after seeing the employee she was replacing fed to a giant monster in the basement straight out of a nightmare they called a chimera, followed by his mother and younger brother.

She could still recall the wide sadistic smile on Braithwaite’s face as they sat in the observation room. Over time she’d come to suspect that forcing her to watch it happen had been part of his enjoyment. She knew she’d never forget what he’d said about the employee.

“And just think, It’s really such a pity. I quite liked him.” He’d said with a jovial grin.

Beyond that her time on security camera duty had shown her how quickly horrible things could happen to people not expecting it. One of the worst memories was of a former coworker popping like a blood filled water balloon. That alone was more than enough to make her bite back her initial retort and go for levity instead.

"Well as it happens Doctor Braithwaite, I'm actually security flunky #2 this morning. Jessah is still recovering from the incident the other night, and Jeyna is off today. It's only Mike and me right now. Jim is on floater duty, so Carl, Rich and Jim will be in for the morning shift."

She belatedly noticed that he had stopped walking and was scowling at her. She sensed a powerful force building inside him and felt the air in the hallway noticeably cooling down and barely managed to keep from peeing herself, sure in that instant that she was about to die horribly.

"I am no longer a Doctor. You will refrain from reminding me of this ever again if you value your job." He said through clenched teeth.

From the waves of energy and raw fury she could feel radiating off him, Krystah knew that a lot more than just her job was at stake. After what felt like a very long moment, he opened his fists and the aura of highly charged energy in the hallway dissipated. He took a few breaths and visibly composed himself.

He resumed walking down the hallway. She walked with him.

"However, I don't recall having told you this before, so I'll let it go. Let us put it behind us, but do not let there be a second time." He said with a calm tone at odds with the tension lines writ large on his body.

Seeing the abrupt shift of tone and body language reminded her of something she’d often wondered about him, but never dared ask.

They were almost to his office when he turned to look at her. "The fact that you have a question burning to be asked is painfully obvious, and I don't even have telepathic abilities. Spit it out."

"Uh, well, I ..." She knew the next few seconds were going to be graded pass fail for her life. "I have monitor duty for lab 1 fairly often, and I've noticed something, I mean, I was wondering. Why are you so nice to some of them, and so mean to others?"

They reached the door to his office. Braithwaite looked to Krystah. "Yes, I suppose I do indeed treat different subjects quite differently. Tell me, how many total and empty slots do you have, and what abilities do you have?”

He cocked his head to the side and examined her in a way that made her feel like he might as well have been examining a particularly interesting bug. “I recall you have something from the perception package, and a few from the physical suite. Forgive me for not knowing, but there are quite a few people working here."

Krystah had met enough cruel women in various positions of power in the prison system to have the sense that he very likely knew the exact answer to his question, and that the trap, if there was one, would be in how she answered it. "Well Mr. Braithwaite, I tested as having five slots. I have one from the perception suite, and two from the physical suite, with two slots confirmed open. Only the perception ability has manifested."

He smiled blandly. A sudden surge of power emanated from him.

She took a half step back, "If that's a test sir, then yes, I can sense that."

He let the smile fade along with the build up of energy. "Ah yes, I recall now. Too bad your physical abilities haven't manifested. With a good selection of abilities that sense of yours could be handy. How far away can you sense an ability being used?" His interest seemed friendly and genuine, but Krystah was far too wary to relax.

She thought about her answer for a moment, cautious of anything that could cause her trouble later on. "It seems to depend on how powerful the ability is, or at least, how much power is being used. I can’t really detect internal abilities, but anything that affects things outside the body I can detect if I’m within about fifty feet."

"So tell me," He asked with a casual tone that didn't match his intent gaze. "How badly do you want for those two physical abilities to manifest?"

She swallowed hard, "Uh, I do want them to manifest. I'd really like to be able to do more. But, um. I'd prefer to stay out of the chair." She tried to look calm while the mental image of herself locked in the chair threatened to throw her into a panic.

"You misunderstand. The chairs have their uses, and we learn more with every subject. However, the chairs are not for those who are part of the organization.”

He smiled, and Krystah suddenly realized that the only thing worse than his normal creepy smile was when he tried to look sincere. “For you, it would be no different from the experience you would expect from any other clinic. Not that it matters just yet, but I’m close to cracking the manifestation problem.”

He glanced upward with a defiant expression. “One day though, I expect we'll have a way to manifest those abilities that have taken root in you without issue, but failed to manifest. I hope when that day comes, if you're still waiting for those abilities to come, that you'll trust me enough to allow us to help.”

Braithwaite reached into his pocket and pulled out a small keyring. “Reliable help is hard to find, and reliable help with the right abilities has great value to us indeed. Who knows, if you do a good job you might even have a shot at getting promoted to lackey someday."

He opened the door to his office. "But I suppose you must have duties I'm keeping you from."

Knowing a dismissal when she heard it, Krystah nodded and headed down the hallway at the fastest pace she felt she could justify as casual. As she neared the corner Mr. Braithwaite called out.

"Oh Ms. Paterson, I almost forgot. Your question was about how I treat the subjects. The answer is fairly simple. The subjects I expect to be around for a while, I treat them harshly to ensure that our relationship, however long or short it may be, gets off on the right foot."

His eyes twinkled, and he grinned. "The other subjects, the ones I suspect won't last beyond a single test. Well what can I say, something about knowing they are about to die in ways so horrible that it is the stuff of nightmares just puts a smile on my face."

With that he closed the door behind him.

Krystah hurried to the nearest restroom, locked herself in, and spent the next few minutes engulfed in uncontrollable shivering with tears streaming down her face after spraying hot bile into the toilet in sharp hard spasms, his smiling face haunting her all the while.

෴Raz෴

෴Fidel෴

෴෴෴෴෴෴

Meeting Fidel

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Raz startled half awake to the sound of screaming. He woke up the rest of the way when he tried to move and realized he was back in the lab and locked back into the mechanized restraint system. The screaming started again. Raz looked up to find the other nearby restraint system had an occupant. After a moment he realized that the older man locked in was Hutch.

Hutch looked different now, and Raz wasn’t sure if it was just the better light. His face was the same, but everything else seemed a little different. Seeing him in agony, Raz wished he could help him but could do nothing but watch his new friend writhe in agony. Raz craned his neck trying to look around the room. He couldn't see anyone else in the room.

Just as he was about to try and talk to Hutch, Mr. Braithwaite came in with another man he hadn't seen before. Braithwaite was still dressed in the same clothing as before. Raz hoped that meant he hadn't been knocked out for long. The other man was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt with a faded brown bomber jacket. The sight of his bright red eyes caused Raz to tense up, instinctively waiting for an explosion of violence. The man was oblivious to his reaction as he carefully took his jacket off, folded it up and placed it on one of the stainless steel tables.

Braithwaite noticed his reaction and brought it to the attention of the other man. "Do you see that Fidel? That is a big part of the problem. He doesn't know you at all, and just seeing your eyes assumes you're about to do something terrible."

Fidel smiled in a way that almost seemed sad, his gaze locked on the moaning older man in the other restraints. "But Leon, he is quite correct. I am here to do something terrible." He said in an accent that sounded vaguely Eastern European.

Leon Braithwaite rolled his eyes at this, "Well sure, but aside from him having been kidnapped, tortured, this test subject screaming, and both of them being prisoners who have no chance of making it out of here alive, he didn't have any real reason to assume you were specifically about to do something terrible to him."

Fidel shrugged, "A game of words with little to be gained." For the first time, he looked directly at Raz. "However, I am not here for you. Yet." He dismissed Raz with a look and resumed staring at the old man. At that moment the old man started screaming again.

Fidel looked at Leon and nodded toward the second prisoner. "The noise, can you..." He seemed to stop and search for the words he wanted, "Turn it down."

Leon went over to the console where a tablet and the remote he'd used earlier were sitting on top. "I most certainly can. Do you need to speak with this thing, or are we done with it?"

"Him," Fidel snarled, his shiny red eyes seeming even brighter in that moment.

"What's that?" Braithwaite turned back toward the others in the room at the sound of Fidel's growl.

Fidel tightened his core and shifted his feet, taking a combat stance. “This man is a him. Not an it.”

Braithwaite shrugged. “Sure, it, him, subject number 834, whatever you want to call it.”

“I said him!” Fidel roared. He lunged across the room and grabbed Braithwaite by the shirt. His other hand burst into blue and yellow flames. Raz watched the flames whirl and dance around the man's hand.

Fidel pulled Leon's face close until they were nose to nose. "Him. He is a man. We may be experimenting on them, we may be killing them, but they are people. We may be doing terrible things in the service of the greater good, but we should take care. We must not be monsters."

Braithwaite rolled his eyes again. "Are you quite finished with your little tantrum?"

Fidel's expression twisted in fury. "Do not disrespect me or these people you damn lab monkey. I'll--" Leon raised one of his hands and flicked Fidel in the chest. Fidel went flying across the room, narrowly missing hitting Raz. The screaming stopped abruptly with a wet splat.

Leon looked down at his shredded shirt. Raz looked over at Fidel to see that he still held the handful of the shirt he'd been gripping. His back and lower body was covered in blood.

Raz realized in horror that while Fidel had narrowly missed him in the low arc he'd taken across the room, he'd struck the other prisoner and knocked his head and neck completely off his torso.

Braithwaite shook his head. "Fidel, look what you've done. He was clearly in the final stage of ability conflict decay. We might have learned something from that subject’s next few hours of decline until expiration. More importantly, you've ruined my fifth favorite shirt.” He shook his head. “Not only that, but you've just confirmed for our guest here everything he thinks he knows about reds." He paused thoughtfully. “But, you can’t say I didn’t honor your wish for less noise.”

Fidel sat up and began picking bits of flesh off his clothing. He carefully didn't make eye contact with Braithwaite. He glared at Raz threateningly when he caught him watching.

Raz glanced over in time to see Mr. Braithwaite carefully buttoning up his lab coat over a torso crisscrossed with scars and other odd-looking lines and spots. Braithwaite caught his eye and the cool menace in his eyes combined with the mild expression on his face scared Raz as much as anything else he'd experienced so far.

"Fidel, do be a good lad and summon a cleanup crew for this mess. Then get yourself cleaned up. I need to decide what treatment to give our special guest here." He glanced at Raz as he spoke.

Fidel glared at Braithwaite then stomped from the room.

Braithwaite looked at Raz. “Well, this is a bit awkward. I’ll deal with you later.”

He picked up the control device and pressed a button. This time, Raz felt the concealed needle stick his arm a few seconds before he passed out.

෴WD40෴

෴෴෴෴෴෴

VR Boardroom

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The virtual boardroom existed as a short, wide, transparent cylinder hovering just above the calm blue ocean that stretched as far as the eye could see. Wilson and Darby’s avatars were at the table already. As each access request came in and was granted, a figure appeared in one of the chairs. Each figure looked like a slightly stylized version of a normal person. The large table slowly filled in, with one spot remaining unfilled. The group waited, their body language growing more impatient.

Wilson looked over across the table, "Jamal, what's the hold up with your brother?"

Jamal made a movement that his avatar didn't quite mirror. His avatar's mouth moved, but no sound came into the virtual boardroom. The sound came back with a slight pop. "Pete's scan rig isn't working right. It corrupted his avatar. He's restarting it now."

"Tell him to come in on default. We only need audio, we're short on time." Darby interjected.

Wilson nodded in agreement, "And remind him that as team leads everyone here earns far more than enough to stay on top of basic tech needs. I don't want to hear about his technical difficulties again."

A few seconds later an access request came in. Wilson verified that the access key checked out and granted entry. A grey featureless vaguely human-shaped figure appeared in the empty seat. "Sorry I'm late," he grunted.

Wilson's avatar stood up. "Ok, if we're done wasting time, let's get to it. We got a job. Normally I’d be dancing around who our client is and telling you what I can. This is different. Doktor Midnight called me directly on my personal line and gave me the data you've got in front of you. I've already met with our infosec group, and they are working to get me a list of targets. In the meantime, when we're done here, gear up for multiple big flashy entrances, and meet at the location in the info packet. If there is an update before then, Darby will send it out." Wilson said, looking around the room at each avatar individually, ending with looking at Darby next to him on his right. He sat down to give Darby the floor.

Darby nodded, "This is a high paying job, and we're planning to make the payout even higher. As you can see, the work is asset retrieval. However, our mission parameters give us enough leeway to make this job more profitable. Our instructions are shock and awe. We'll also be performing as quick of a smash and grab as we can. It sounds like we're not expected to see this guy, but if we do, grab him. For all our sakes, grab him if you can, but whatever you do, do not let him get fragged. If we can grab him and then pad out our bill some, so much the better. None of us here want to be on the wrong side of a conflict with our client. Let's keep in mind, mission first, targets of opportunity second." Darby sat back down. "Any questions?"

Pete leaned his blobby low-resolution head over to Jamal, who then lifted his hand slightly. Seeing Darby's acknowledgment, he stood up. "Pete and I are wondering what kind of approach do you want our teams taking at these targets?" He sat down.

Darby stood up. "We're not going to be armchair quarterbacking you. I’ll run my team you run yours. This type of asset retrieval is a little different than our usual work, so take whatever approach you want, just get the job done. You have the requirements, and aside from coordinating the attacks for time, everything on the ground is your call. If you run into problems, alert Hex, she'll be on comms, and we have rapid response force backup from our client on this one." Darby sat down and looked around the room again.

One avatar that looked a bit like a tiny anime princess raised its hand. Seeing nods from Wilson and Darby, the avatar sat up a little straighter. "Raven is a team lead, but I'm not a team lead, and we're usually in the op-infosec groups anyway, what is our role in here on the field teams?" The avatar asked in a baritone male voice.

Wilson stood up and put his hands on the table. "Wraith, one reason is that Raven's group doesn't have as much field experience as I'd like for my infosec people to have. Another reason is that the smash and grab portion of these hits will involve liberating anything that looks like they might be storing valuable data on it. If it looks like there might be cryptocurrency, bank info, or even personal data about other groups like us, I want it. As for why you specifically are also coming along into the field, look around the room. Aside from Pete, who at least has an excuse, you're the only one with a fucked up avatar. This isn’t one of your goddamn hentai videos. Sure we all know Raven's rack isn't quite that spectacular" He looked over at the top-heavy light blonde female avatar that was rendered in painstaking hyper-realistic detail, "Sorry Raven," The avatar in question shrugged, causing the referenced rack to move in a way that several others in the room found distracting.

Wilson looked back at Wraith. "I'd heard about you showing up to team meetings in this avatar. Coming here today wearing it tells me you need definitely a reminder about being a professional and company policies. If you find you like being with the field team, then by all means, keep using it, and I'll figure out what you dislike enough to change your behavior."

“Does anyone have anything to add?” Wilson asked.

An avatar that looked like the outline of a woman, filled in with black of space lit only by six points of light across her head and torso raised its hand.

Wilson looked at the avatar. “What do you have for us Hex?”

Hex spoke up, her voice modulated with heavy oversampling to sound as though many people were speaking in unison. “Reminder, this is a local job. We should all be in masks and helmets. Cameras with offsite storage are small and cheap. Facial recognition is only getting better.”

Wilson looked at Darby. Darby stood up. “She’s right. Will and I have talked about this and we’re making the mask a required part of the ops uniform going forward, normal exceptions apply. We want everyone to be safe from surprise home visits, not to mention those armored masks weren’t cheap, let’s get some value out of them.”

Darby sat back down.

Wilson looked around the room. "Ok team, any other questions?" Wilson looked at everyone in turn. No one stood or raised a hand.

"Ok then, we've got work to do, and you’ve got teams to brief."

Raven watched as one by one the avatars vanished, with the entire virtual scenario shutting down shortly after she disconnected.