The dim lighting of this place sets a romantic mood, a mood that I quite enjoy. Red velvet fabric seats fuel passion with the burning unscented candles spread across the place. Every black linen top table is filled with beaming guests. The giant glass windows surrounding the place reflects back the city lights of a lively city. Soft piano music adds charm to the venue.

My roaming eyes return to the man across from me. His eyes are deeply furrowed as he looks over the selection of imported wines. His ivory skin contrasts the jet darkness from his silken hair. His golden rims are innocent, inviting. Yet, as his brown eyes meet mine, his little smirk warns me to proceed with caution. Kyro Reed, the man who seduced me to this date. I wasn't a woman who was easily swayed by dating apps, but Kyro's look and humor were one's I had to personally indulge in.

"Surely you're showing off bringing me to a place like this." I say, lowering my menu and staring into his trap.

"It's our first date and I'm all about first impressions." Kyro cooly shrugs as he waves over our waiter, "And I am a gentleman so please, order whatever you please, my treat."

His lips have a way of moving, a way of seducing me as he orders us a bottle of good rich red Italian vintage wine. There was a way in which Kyro unintentionally flashed his teeth when he grinned and spoke that revealed the whitest of porcelain hidden in his mouth. If I wasn't careful, I'm sure this man could bite.

I wasn't one to waste my time on a seven-course meal but for Kyro, I was quickly learning I would do anything. His cool posture, his confidence, his mindfulness, he surely wasn't a good man. His breath alone was melting me, dripping my being into my seat.

"How do you feel about murder?" Kyro's question comes up unexpectedly but simply amuses me as I unintentionally smile, keeping my gaze fixated on the cut mango fruit on my plate.

"How do you feel about it?" I ask, raising my gaze to him.

Kyro smirks, leaning back into his seat. "I quite enjoy it."

Humming to myself I nod, picking up my knife slowly and raising it up as I twist it in my fingers.

"It's my kink." I joke, knowing it's a hidden truth causing Kyro to remove his glasses.

"I have a person in mind." Kyro suggests, piquing my interest.

"Oh?" I lean closer, hoping he would continue.

"There's this man who...simply can't keep his word and as a man who is required to work with people, he is giving me stress that I do not need." Kyro shrugs.

"Easy." I said, reaching for my glass of wine and taking a sip.

"Easy, that's all?" Kyro raises a questioning brow as I hum, nodding my head.

"I am a woman who enjoys a good thrill, Kyro." I admit, glancing to the table of businessmen besides us.

"You're peculiar." He mutters, "At least hear me out before blindly agreeing." Kyro was cute, perhaps a lot more thoughtful than I expected. Licking my lips I nod, hoping he could seduce me with his words and schemes.

Then again, his lips have a way of sucking the soul of anyone. Unfortunately, there was a finger full of what he could suck on and that didn't involve anything to-do with my soul but more of my flesh. He was exciting, mysterious. He was Clark and Superman. Two men only being differentiated by a pair of glasses and hidden strength.

He seemed to have a clue on how to get his revenge, but it was nothing but child's play. Surely this man was in his early days, awaiting his first crime. It was truly exciting to see my first in his facial expressions. Yet, there was something more sinister to him that I was willing to give him credit for.

"Charming." I mutter, leaning back into my seat, fighting my own excitement.

"So, what do you say?" Kyro waits with anticipation as I smirk.

"And what do I get in return for seducing this man and luring him out?" My question shows Kyro I wouldn't simply do this for free. Helping him commit a crime at night in this city wasn't easy. It was an evil place out there; these streets had the blood and ashes of thousands.

"Help me with my...issue and I'll help you with yours." Kyro said, causing me to scoff and nod, knowing very well that last part was a lie.

However, even if he wasn't willing to help me, he would unintentionally grant me a thrill. Even as we left the restaurant and walked to a bar across the street where the man, he spoke about patiently waited for Kyro, I took his place. And with great ease, had the man feeding from me as Kyro watched from a distance. This was truly wicked, exciting to know I'd have two men added to my list.

Because if there is one thing about the app LDE, is that love does end. Well, I'm sure the company had it for Love's Dead End, the final destination to find the one! Surely it did help me find the one for tonight, the one who for the first time in years reminded me that I was a lady. A lady who enjoys getting a nice diner, a handsome date, and a man who ignites a thrill from within. Kyro had potential, but why rob myself from some good old school fun? Perhaps I made him scream louder than he could ever make me cream.

There's something about not being picked. It triggers something, messing with the dopamine receptors.

"Well, what'll we have, Antoinette? " he said, tilting his head in a critical lean to the left.

I'd done a good job. Better than in the picture on the App profile. He was pleased. Some people just don't photograph as nice as they look in real life. And contra wise, some are romanced by the viewfinder of the camera, but lose their luster when seen actually moving in space, the third- or fourth- dimension revealing asymmetry that is otherwise quite natural, though sometimes unbecoming.

And others endure the knife. Or botox a certain look. Art for art sake, I've always felt was justified. I brushed a strand of cinnamon auburn from my cheek with chic red acrylic French tipped finger. 

"Please order whatever you like..." I said, "On me."

A little grin pulled at his cheek, revealing a dimple in the center, like a child's, and I could see he thought the evening was going favorably well, for himself. If he thought anything wasn't quite right, he'd swept it like lint from the Five Star table napkin. Nonexistent.

We chatted pleasantly about nothing.

A convo chameleon, I'd read the transcripts enough times to have the wording verbatim on immediate rolodex. He'd talked about swimming, fishing, sailing, and his latest yacht. Yada, yada, yada, and oh yes the kind of girl he'd love to have on it...

"Your eyes are grey," he interjected over the aperitif in lead crystal. Ching ching.

"Colour changers," I said lowering and raising my false lashes for full effect. 

By the sixth course, we were touching toes beneath the tablecloth. We split a sorbet, raspberry-lemon.

I had a very vivid recollection of her apartment. For fun I described it to him. All the odds and ends, those I was convinced he'd like best... "and just outside the bedroom double glass sliding doors there's a balcony, iron rails, overlooking San Franscisco Bay, and a palm screened hot tub in Turquoise tile."

"Wow. Sounds amazing. You've got a great place," he beamed love rays from his chest, an eleven-course meal in itself.

"Would you care for a dance?" I betted on an immediate yes. It was that kind of venue. I knew he'd trained, Latin and Classical.

Soon enough he had me in his arms, and I assessed our fittings. Her dress, impeccable. I didn't have to tuck or hem, though I did select my fullest undergarments and we both appreciated the lift and curvature. His hand lighting on my hip, breast to breast, our breaths just a little bit compressed, capturing the mood of the music.

I let him lead us wherever he liked. Three songs, four... till the band rested.

Back at the table, digging into the savory finger bites, Spring rolls and Lobster Rangoon's, I thought about her leftovers in the ice chest. Saved, to be dealt with later. Together.

"Let's skip the nuts, and head out?" I suggested, pulling out my keys and stroking just the hairs over his hand, stoking what I already knew was electrifying beneath the surface.

"Your place?" he said, surprised and delight, and I gave a little churlish giggle, behind a flirtatious hand with platinum bangles. He was charmed, and gallantly took me under the arm once I'd retrieved her credit card into my sequin clutch.

It was a quick ride, tipsy from the warmth of the revelry and intoxicating novelty, and anticipation of the stretch of evening still before us. I suggested a dip in the swell of the hot tub, and he was entirely game. Even when he saw as I undressed, that I wasn't exactly what he had pictured. Nevertheless, I fit within the breadth of his profile range of preference, as "open to persuasion," and so he reshuffled mentally, roused all the same.

We slipped into the bubbles of the jets. He closed his eyes and I leaned against his thigh. Now seemed like optimal timing:

"What shall we do with her?" I whispered softly.

"With...?" he murmured lazily, confused but not yet disturbed.

"With her. The woman. You know... the One you picked. From the App."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a dark red dress, a pair of strapped black shoes which I wore only for special occasions and I wore my usually tied up hair loose, in waves created by a styling wand. On my neck, there was a gold locket and on my ears, two sparkly drop earrings.

I grabbed my new shiny black handbag and set out for my evening out at a new posh restaurant in which I was to meet the date whom I had met via a dating app. His name was Benjamin Green and his profile picture showed a smiling, friendly face, with light brown hair, side-parted and worn away from his face. He had blue eyes and described himself as a warehouse stocker. For our date, he would be wearing a pale blue shirt, a dark blue tie with a white stripe and a light brown jacket. The date was fixed for 8p.m. He would be sitting at a table near the entrance of the restaurant, so that I would not fail to see him.

I felt slightly uneasy at the idea of meeting someone from a dating app. I had heard of a few people coming to a nasty end because of some unsavoury characters whom they had met on a dating app. You never knew who hid behind a keyboard! But I was not one for socialising: I would come home from my job as a hairdresser tired enough to crash on the sofa. It was only my friend, Denise, who worked with me who suggested that I needed to get more out of life and where better than from a dating app, so I decided to try it, just for fun.

I arrived at the restaurant. True to his word, Benjamin was waitng for me. He jumped up from his seat as soon as he saw me and pumped my hand with a vigorous handshake.

"Miss Louise Mitchell?"

"Yes. Benjamin Green?"

"Yes."

A waiter came to our table with menus. Benjamin ordered chicken soup, steak-and-kidney pie with rice and peas and I settled for pea soup, fish and chips. He chose apple pie and I chocolate cake as dessert.

"What do you do for a living, Louise, if may call you that?"

"You may. I am a hairdresser."

"I am a warehouse stocker, as you probably know from my online description. Nothing to write home about."

I giggled nervously. It is not the sort of confession you make to someone that you have just met, but then there was nothing stopping me from seeing him just this once and then never again.

"I am thinking of spreading my wings. I have been working there for five years and I feel that I am going nowhere. I just cannot afford to leave."

"Why not take out a loan?"

"I do not see how I could pay it back."

My heart sank. What if he was bankrupt and expected me to help him out? What if he did not even have a job and had lied to me? I had heard about some gullible women lending men endless amounts of money only to be bankrupted themselves eventually. Alarm bells rang in my head and I was tempted to run away from this date, but something held me back.

Benjamin continued:

"We close at six o'clock. How about I take you there?"

"To the warehouse?"

"Yes. We could fill a van with items that we see there and sell them for a profit online. There is no CCTV there and, at nights, we are not likely to get caught. Wear black clothes, a black anorak and gloves, so as not to leave fingerprints anywhere. The whole thing will not take more than an hour."

I felt sick. He was asking me to help him commit a burglary. Whatever my family's financial situation, it had always been drummed into me never to steal or burgle. Even if was not going to get caught, the idea of committing a burglary still repelled me.

"Benjamin-"

"What are you afraid of? Most of it is old stock that they would like to get rid of anyway. I doubt that they would miss it very much."

"Yes, but it is still theirs. You are asking me to become a thief."

"Trust me, Louise, that they are making a big loss keeping those old items and it would be a blessing if those old items were disposed of and new items placed instead. What do you think?"

I fell silent. I could see the appeal of wanting to make extra money by disposing of old items - it was just the method used that I did not like. I had been raised in an honest household where one did not commit crimes.

"I don't know," I blurted out.

Benjamin was persistent.

"Nobody will see us, Louise, I promise you and I am doing them a big favour by getting rid of their old, unwanted stock and making way for new stock. Where there is muck, there is brass, as they say."

I hesitated again.

"OK," I finally heard myself say.

I could have kicked myself.

We arranged to meet again at 8p.m. on a Saturday night. Benjamin scribbled down an address opposite a local park where I was to meet him. He would be driving a grey van. Parking a van outside a block of flats on a Saturday night could arouse suspicion.

Benjamin was wearing black as arranged and so was I. We drove to his warehouse in silence, as I was too nervous to speak. When we arrived, Benjamin managed to force open the door with a thrust of his shoulders.

The warehouse contained rolls of fabric for both clothes and curtains, ready-made clothes and shoes and gold, silver, gilt jewellery and expensive watches. Benjamin grabbed one bin liner and handed me another. Together, we depleted the warehouse of most of its stock and then jumped into his van. When I arrived at my flat, I could not sleep. The enormity of what I had done hit me like a brick.

A bin liner containing all the items that I had stolen lay across the room from me. My first instinct was to throw it away, but it contained expensive items, which I secretly admired and expensive items, if unwanted, were usually sold, rather than dispensed of. I did not k ow what to do with those items.

My mobile phone rang. It was Benjamin.

"Louise? How are you?"

My heart began to throb. It was now or never. I decided to bite the bullet.

"About last night, Benjamin. I don't think that we should see each other again. I feel bad about it. The stuff that I had taken is lovely, but it is stolen and I feel bad about it."

"We won't get caught-"

"That is not the point, Benjamin. The point is that it was stolen. We had no right to take it. Come to my place or give me your address and I will give it to you. You can dispense of it as you wish."

I gave him my address and he came to collect the stolen items. I never saw him again.

The Almrin Tower, named after the tower's architect and designer, Jerod Almrin, looked otherworldly. Built almost entirely of glass and bosting only three sides that were twisted into a spiral shape the Almrin tower had an incredibly unique look, with the large, ball-shaped top making the building look like a giant wizard's staff or an odd-looking mushroom. Even though the building stood at one hundred and eighty floors the tower found itself short of most other buildings of its size. That was because the tower was built leaning at a forty-five-degree angle.

I stared at the Almrin tower from across the street in the shadows of an alley dressed in the finest clothing I had, a red, strapless dress that hugged my five-foot-nine, one-hundred and fifty-pound figure tightly from my chest to my hips, the hem of which swayed about halfway down my shins with matching red one-inch high heals and a small, red purse that hung from my shoulder by a strap of fake gold chain. I led my wavey brown hair flow halfway down my back, the curls dramatized by me taking a curling iron to it for several hours earlier that day. I had put on red lipstick and lighter eyeliner that complimented my dark green eyes but tried to keep from over-preparing myself to not seem too insecure or desperate because I was here on a date. A first date. And I wanted to look good for him.

I had met the man on Good Finds, a dating app where people were supposed to find other singles. I had met Alan on the app and couldn't believe that a man so beautiful could be single.

Discreetly, I pulled a DataViewer from my purse, projecting the holographic display I had been looking at a little too often, even though I remembered every exact detail on account of my near-perfect photographic memory. Alan Gerswic's Good Finds profile.

The picture showed a tall, athletic-looking man with dark hair and eyes with reasonably tanned skin in a plain T-shirt and black jeans, with a chiseled face that could have been made by one of the ancient sculptors I had read about, like Michelangelo, or Leanardo DaVinchi. He leaned on a brick wall that had a mural painted on it, but not enough of the wall was shown to make the mural decipherable.

And his description was most interesting. 'I am 21, and looking for the love of my life to run into the sunset with! I am an active person, and can't seem to stop going. Can you keep up?'

We had spoken through the messages function of the app and he had told me that he often left the neon lights of the city to venture into the forests, and the mountains around the city around New Helget, the city where I lived. After we had been talking for a few days, he asked me to go on a date with him so we could meet in person. He was incredibly chivalrous, never asking me to do anything unreasonable or obscene, like some of the other men I had met on Good Finds and some other apps I was on. A few other dates I had been on had ended oddly or on bad terms. No one had yet gotten me to want a second date, but Alan was different from all of those other men.

Maybe this relationship could become more than a possibility, I hoped. He was kind, polite, physically active, and had handsomeness down in spades!

Jacklin Gerswic, I thought, feeling the name around in my head. Not bad.

I turned off my DataViewer, closing the holo-display. In a minute, I would meet my date in person once and for all.

Alan, in his apparently opulent wealth, had invited me to eat with him at the Leurmont, a restaurant that not only had some of the best chefs in the world working in it, but had the best, and most expensive, view in the city. The very top of the Almrin tower.

I quickly walked down the crosswalk with the throng of people walking with me, the ever-active traffic whizzing by on my right and the impatient drivers waiting in their hovercars on my left. When I reached the other side I went straight to the door of the Almrin Tower, which had a gilded canopy and a man in a silver suit who opened the door to let me in. I thanked him as I walked in.

Inside everything was sleek and silvery, with light floating down from garish lights hanging from the ceiling. there were six separate elevators, three on each wall, and there were two halls on either side of the reception desk, set on the other side of the room. At the silvery table was a sleek, silver-bodied robot in the shape of a woman, who looked at me with cold, electric blue eyes as I walked up to her.

"I'm here for a reservation at the Leurmont," I said. "For two. Under the name Alan Gerswic."

"Yes, madam," the robot replied in a soft, polite, emotionless voice. "You would be Miss Jacklin Holst, yes?

"Yes."

"Please take elevator four to floor one-hundred seventy-nine. Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," I said to the robot, and I walked over to the fourth elevator. I pressed the button, and the door opened to reveal a glass elevator. I stepped in and pressed the button for floor one-hundred and seventy-nine. As the elevator started to smoothly and silently move diagonally up along with the tilt of the building, I looked at the view.

"Woah," I muttered, surprised. I knew that the Almrin Tower was made mostly of glass, but I hadn't expected this.

Through the glass of the tower, I could see everything. I saw people working at computers, I saw several meetings in progress, I saw people living in apartments, and I saw spaces where the glass was tinted so that I couldn't see through. and through the clear glass, past the people, I could see the city outside. I noticed a slider nob in the side of the elevator, which, when I moved it up or down, made the glass of the elevator more or less opaque.

Clever, I thought.

I left the elevator clear, but slightly tinted so that others would have a tougher time seeing me back.

As the elevator moved I slowly came into sight of the end goal, at the bulbous top of the Almrin Tower. The very top floor, floor one-hundred and eighty, was almost perfectly opaque, but floor one-hundred seventy-nine was bustling. The Leurmont occupied two floors, technically, but both floors were blended and were covered in glass furniture. I saw men and women dressed in their best. Important, and wealthy people, eat fine food. My heart raced. Not only was I not an 'Important' person, but this restaurant was far nicer than anywhere I had ever been.

Looking at my outfit, the nicest clothes I owned, I felt very underdressed.

The elevator stopped and opened, opening up to the glass restaurant. A hostess was working the glass reception desk, and I walked up to her.

"How can I help you?" she asked in a very good customer service voice.

"I'm here for a reservation," I told her. "With Alan Gerswic?"

"Right this way," she said, picking up two menus from her table and leading me through the restaurant, up to the second floor, and over to a table for two next to a window. Alan stood from his chair and smiled.

"Hi, Jacky," he said, using my nickname.

"Only my friends call me Jacky, Alan," I responded with a smile. "Are you sure you want to take that job on? It's full-time."

"I think I will manage," he said.

I was fidgeting with the zipper of my purse. I hadn't realized just how tall Alan was! He must have been at least six feet tall!

Alan stepped over to the second chair and pulled it from the table.

"Thank you," I said, sitting in the chair. He pushed my chair back into place and sat back in his chair as the hostess placed down the menus.

"Someone will be with you shortly to take your order," she said.

"Thank you," Alan said, and she walked away.

"Were you waiting very long?" I asked.

"Oh, no," he said, looking at his watch. "In fact, you were earlier than I had expected."

"Oh, good," I said.

"So, Jacky," Alan said. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"Me? This place? Anything."

"Well, for one, this place is way out of my budget."

He chuckled. "Other than that."

"It's beautiful," I told him.

"I think so too," he said.

"And you are taller than I had expected," I told him.

He laughed. "I could say the same about you."

I nodded.

We talked on, and we looked at the menu. When the waiter came Alan ordered a bottle of champagne and two glasses for our drinks, and we ordered food.

Then the waiter set out our silverware, three separate forks of varying sizes on the right, and a spoon and a steak knife on the left.

"What is it?" Alan asked.

I started, surprised. "Oh, just not used to having so much silverware."

I grimaced on the inside, chiding myself for acting like such a pleb.

"Yeah, I just use the big fork," Alan said, shruging. "I was always taught 'Waist not want not,' you know?

"Yeah, same," I said, relieved.

"Well, we have a little while until our food comes out," Alan said. "How have you been?"

~~

By the time our food arrived, we were deep in a conversation about pets. Alan said he had had several dogs, and once had a fish, and I lamented not ever having the chance to own a dog, but I mentioned that I had a cat. Xeran.

"Xeran?" he said. "That is an odd name."

"I think it's cool," I told him.

"I didn't say it wasn't cool," he said, holding his hands up innocently. "I just said odd."

We finished eating, and he poured both of us a third cup of champagne. I was never much of a drinker, but it was really easy to lose track of how much I had drunk as I was so intoxicated by Alan's presence. He was like a bold of lightning, always doing something. If he wasn't talking, he was eating or drinking or fiddling with something as if he was ready to start bouncing off the walls at a moment's notice.

"Are you finished with your dinner, Jacky?" he asked.

"I am," I said, sipping at the champagne. I felt it polite to at least have a little of the third cup, although I was certain the two had already been a little too much for me.

"Alright then," he nodded. "Now, I have a very important question to ask you. That is, only if I can trust you. Can I trust you?"

"Of course Alan," I said. "You can trust me. I feel as if we have a connection."

"Good," he said, scooting closer to the table and leaning forward. I leaned toward him, intrigued by his odd behavior.

"You can tell that I am well-connected right?" He asked.

"I got the hint," I told him.

"Now, when I met you on Good Finds, Jacky, I thought you would be just another gold digger, another fool, but you are a fire-cracker. You have brains and ideas."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome. But I wasn't only interested in you due to your good looks, good brain, and charming personality, but also by your adventurous nature and..."

He looked to either side of him as if checking to see if anyone might hear him.

"... your grudge?"

The mood shift was palpable. Chills rippled down my spine and up my arms.

"What?" I asked. "What grudge?"

"Against the ones who killed your parents?" he said.

His words sent me back. Back to my childhood.

When I was only young, I lived with my family several miles away from the city. I was only five when they came.

The New Helget Law Enforcers had gotten tipped off that my father owned a stash of weapons. Firearms mostly, of many shapes and sizes, along with a variety of deadly close-ranged weapons like swords and things. Illegal things.

The Enforcers had come to our home in the night like a hurricane, coming through windows and breaking down doors without warning waving their guns around. They had a stand-off with my father for a time, until one trigger-happy Enforcer fired a shot, and my father fired back with deadly force. The Enforcers fired back, and they killed my father.

While this happened my mother had been smuggling me out of the back, but we were stopped by a wall of Enforcers surrounding the house. My mother opened a hidden compartment where we had been keeping some of the weapons and preserved food.

"Stay here sweety," she had said. "Wait for mommy okay?"

Then there had been a bang, and mom had shut the door on me.

I hid in that cubby for a whole night before I couldn't stand to wait any longer. I left my hiding spot to find my home deserted, and my father dead where he had fallen, dressed in his pajamas. My mother was out in the yard. They had executed her.

I swallowed hard. I hadn't told anyone what had happened to my family.

"How did you know about that?"

"The Enforcers keep good track of their secret evil deeds," Alan said. "Don't worry. I have a grudge too."

"You do?" I asked.

He nodded. "They took my sister."

My heart ached for him. I knew what it was like to lose family. "So what do you want?"

"Did you know that the tower has more floors under the ground?" Alan asked.

"I'd heard about that, yes," I told him.

"Well, I know of a place that is of great import to the Enforcers. A secret laboratory, where they study secret technologies that no one is allowed to know about. A place that they keep under the deepest of wraps, but that comes at a cost. It will be trivial to infiltrate. If you are willing, of course."

I was stunned. I hadn't expected this date to take this turn.

"Well, let's say I was interested. Which I am not saying I am, or that I am not. What makes you think that they didn't just hear you?"

"What?" he asked.

"They have their secret lab in the building right?" I asked. "Surly they have the whole place bugged."

"True, they do. They had to be extra clever to bug a building made entirely of glass, but they did it. Fortunately, I have this."

He reached inside his blazer and flashed a small metal box. "It makes us unintelligible to the bugs. What we say here is protected."

"Okay," I said. "Now, next question, what makes you think I am even capable of infiltrating a secret government lab?"

"I did some digging when I realized your history with the Enforcers. I found some suggestions about you having a history with this kind of thing. With the Steel Triad."

Once again, his words sent me down memory lane. As an orphan I had been starving in the streets, when I ran into Jed, a member of the Steel Triad. He had paid me to bring him information, just street talk and rumors mostly. One day I heard a rumor that the Enforcers had found the Steel Triads' operating base, but instead of going straight to Jed I slipped into an Enforger outpost and found the digital files that the Enforcers had on the Steal Triad. I brought Jed the Enforcer's attack plans and their maps of the Steel Triad operations base, and the times when the Enforcers planned on attacking. Jed had me trained for espionage after that.

"Okay, maybe I could," I said. "But even if I wanted to, for one thing, I would need an in-depth schedule for every single person in the place and time to study their habits and everything. Second, I can't do a mission like that dressed like this. Third, why should I trust you? You have been stalking me."

"First, I haven't stalked you," he said. He stopped, thinking. "Okay, maybe a little, but you are such a fascinating person it was hard not to. Second, I have a suitable change of clothes for this mission. Third, I have schedules for every man, woman, and test rat that goes in the place. Fourth, from your last childhood medical records and your parent's above-superb intellect, I don't think you would need all that long to memorize the schedules."

I bit my lower lip, trying to process all of this new information. "Alright, mister know-it-all. Let's just pretend I was in. What would the purpose of such a mission be?"

"In the laboratory, they have an experimental serum. When fully realized, it is supposed to be an instantly effective performance enhancer. As of now none of their tests have worked as intended, but they keep getting better with the more blood they spill. On paper, it is a miracle of medicine and a weapon of war, but it is killing all of the test subjects they forced to take it."Once finished the serum is supposed to enhance a person's physical strength, speed, agility, mental acuity, and more. And according to their diagnostics, possibilities for extra unforeseen abilities like telekinesis, or control over fire."

"So it's a super soldier serum?" I asked.

He stopped, thinking for a moment. "Kind of, actually."

"So you want me to steal it?"

"I want you to destroy it."

I sat back.

"So was this what the date was about?"

"No," he said. "Well, this is why I picked the Leurmont for our date, but the date itself was because of you. This proposition was a happy coincidence."

I was silent, thinking about what Alan wanted me to do.

"Will you be helping in the mission?"

"I will be your eye in the sky," he said. "That is my specialty. Now, from your record I would guess, but I must ask. Do you have much combat experience?"

Images of bloody fellow orphans hit for swiping my food flashed through my mind. Memories of me in the gun range filled my head as I trained under the Steel Triad. Days on days where I practiced fistfighting and knife fighting until I was sore and bleeding all over.

"Yes," I answered simply. "Do you have a knife? Preferably a butterfly knife. And a handgun would be helpful, in case things get dicey.

Alan smiled. "Does that mean you are in?"

I nodded. "Yes."

~~

Alan paid the bill, tipping the waiter generously, and we left. He brought me down to a lower floor, floor eighty-six, and led me to a room with heavily tinted glass. Inside the room was lit with a single bright light, giving the place the surreal feel of being lost in space. The room was empty and bare, except for three plastic folding tables.

On the table to the left were five separate guns, three handguns, a rifle, and a taser, along with a wide assortment of attachments. The table to the right held a generous collection of hand-held weapons. Brass knuckles, knives, a sword, a chain, and other kinds of weapons.

On the third table, across the room from the door, was a black skin-tight suit that looked like it could fit me, although it might be tight, with belts and straps for equipment alongside a few technological toys, and a stack of papers that had the names, hours, and pictures of all forty-five people working in the lab, seven guards and thirty-eight scientists.

"Take your pick," Alan told me. "I got you everything you might need."

I surveyed the selection. It really did seem as if he had thought this whole thing out.

"Okay. You can go now. I am going to change."

"Alright." He left.

Ten minutes later I opened the door to the room to let him in, dressed in the black suit. I had a 6mm pistol and two eight-round magazines of ammo, one in the gun and the other strapped next to it, strapped to my right thigh, a butterfly knife sheathed next to my gun, and two throwing knives sheathed on my left thigh. I had other little gadgets hidden elsewhere, like like in the sole of my shoe, or strapped to my wrist. There were three cylindrical toys strapped to my belt at the back, that I was particularly excited about. All of this was under my red dress, which covered everything except my shoulders.

"Your suit is still exposed," he said. "Here."

He handed me his coat.

"Do you not have anything you need in this?"

"No, I have my bug jammer on me."

"Good," he said. I put on his blazer, covering my new fatigues more totally with more conspicuous clothes.

"You look like you are coming back from a satisfactory date," he said coyly.

"I think I did," I told him.

"That's good. Did you memorize the schedule already?"

I nodded.

"Alright then. Here."

Alan handed me a small earpiece no bigger than a pill.

"So we can keep in contact."

"Alright," I nodded. "Let's do this."

~~

I walked out of the room and straight towards the elevators. Alan's voice came over the earpiece.

"The bugs in the building can't hear me right now. The earpiece is protected, but the bugs can still hear you. I can see you on the cameras, so just nod slightly to confirm that you can hear."

I nodded slightly.

"Good," he said. "Now, there is a special elevator, the only one able to go past the negative tenth floor, as the laboratory is on the negative eleventh floor. The special elevator is pretty cleverly concealed, hidden in plain sight. Can you guess where?"

I looked around, trying to find a place in the transparent building where someone could hide an elevator. I shook my head.

"The corners," Alan said. "They are the perfect size for a small elevator. Emphasis on small, but the elevator is not our way in. That would be the elevator shaft."

The elevator shaft? I thought as I pressed the button to call the elevator. Surely...

"And before you think that I am going to try and get you to climb down a hundred stories of the elevator shaft," Alan said, "I don't mean that you will be climbing down the shaft."

I was relieved, but also confused. How would I use the elevator shaft...

Then I thought about the schedule Alan had given me. I checked the time on my DataViewer and saw that it was eleven forty-two. In about eight minutes, the secret lab was going to receive an unspecified shipment, through the elevator shaft more than likely.

"What do you think of wrangling an elevator, cowgirl?" Alan asked.

I shrugged. He chuckled.

"Alright. Now you need to get to the seventy-first floor. That is where the elevator is. It is also a closed office area, so everyone has gone home for the night, and the windows have been fully tinted to keep people from being nosey. The perfect cover for the Enforcers delivery. The delivery will be brought in by a man dressed as a janitor, so keep an eye out."

The elevator arrived, and I stepped in.

"Press the ground floor button. I will make sure the elevator stops at the seventieth floor. You will want to use the stairs the rest of the way. We need to do this because they monitor the elevator activity."

I nodded, pressing the ground floor button.

The elevator grumbled down and stopped at the seventieth floor. The door opened and I walked straight to the stairwell nearby. It was a little disorienting walking up the stairs, which were made of cloudy, white-ish glass, but I made it to the next floor without a problem. The Seventh floor, as Alan had said it would be, was darkly tinted and the lights were out so I could hardly see my own hand in front of my eyes. I reached for my wrist, where I had stashed a little gadget. It looked like a tiny old-fashioned television remote, with two empty compartments and four buttons, and a small turnable dial. While I couldn't see the buttons, I remembered that they were green, red, yellow, and white. I pressed the green button and the contacts I had put in switched to night vision mode, allowing me to see everything in an odd, green tint.

"Now just wait for the janitor. He should be coming up in the elevator now. And don't let him see you."

I looked, and I realized that I couldn't see much past the walls of the floor I was on. I pressed the red button on the remote, switching to infrared vision. I saw the red shape of a man coming closer to me, assumably on an elevator.

"Do you see him?"

I nodded.

"Good. He will lead you straight to where you need to go."

The man stopped on my floor and started walking, pushing something, assumably a cart. He held up a hand, and with a click a beam of light lit the area around a corner from me. I slid over and took a glance at my target. He looked unremarkable, clean-shaven, and dressed in a blue denim onesie and a matching baseball cap. He held a powerful flashlight in one hand and pushed his cart in front of him with the other. I followed him through the twists and turns of the seventy-first floor until he reached the exposed steel edge of the rounded corner support for the building.

This was when he stopped, next to the support. He pressed his hand against a part of the tower, pressing a button that was so flush with the support I wouldn't have been able to find it if he hadn't just pressed it. The button opened a small door inside of which was a keypad. I took the remote for my contacts and spanned the dial, which zoomed my vision in on the keypad, so I saw him put in the password. Heracles. A small selection screen opened, with a dozen little buttons. The man pressed the 'call elevator' button.

Then the elevator door slid open, revealing a small, cramped space that, after he rolled his cart in and got in himself, there was hardly any room left. The door closed, and I rushed up to the spot as I pressed the yellow button on my remote, making my vision normal again.

"Did you get the password?" Alan asked.

I nodded.

"Good," he said. "Now, if you get to the door, you can get the door open. You will have to catch up with the elevator, but once you do then you can ride it all the way down.

I pressed the button and put in the password, and the selection screen opened up, with various options, like raising a silent alarm and others, but I pressed the 'open door' button. The elevator opened and I was standing before the empty elevator shaft, which curved down awkwardly. I reached into my purse pulled out a pair of gloves I had stashed in there, and slid them on. I tested them on the metal support, and the creases on the fingers and palm of the glove that looked like fingerprints lit up and magnetized to the wall.

Perfect.

I leaped into the elevator shaft as the door closed behind me, leaving no sign I was ever there.

I was climbing down the shaft with the gloves like a spider, climbing down as quickly as I could when Alan came over the coms.

"If you have any questions now is the time to ask them. The shaft itself is bug-free."

"How did you know about this place?" I asked him. "It seems that they have gone through some great trouble to keep this secret."

"I know some guys who are on my side. They told me about this place."

"Who are these guys?"

For their security I am not going to tell you now," he said. "The fewer who know, the better."

"Understood."

"I like it when you get all buisnessy," Alan said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You were so much more casual before, but now when business is going down you are ready to do business. I like it."

"Thanks," I said. I could feel my face getting hot. "Oh, there is the elevator!"

The elevator was slowly creeping down the awkwardly shaped shaft, the elevator itself being a cylinder that probably looked like a weird metal CRAFT mac and cheese noodle.

"Good," Alan said.

I started climbing faster, my muscles aching slightly from the climb.

When I reached the elevator I awkwardly rolled onto the moving surface from the stationary wall, and something heavy in Alan's blazer pocket thudded against the top of the elevator.

I froze, my hand hovering over my butterfly knife, wondering if the man in the elevator had heard me. I waited for several moments before Alan said, "What's wrong? What happened?"

I was about to respond when a trap door opened next to me and the man peeked his head out. I drew my knife and, flipping it open, immediately shoved the blade into the man's eye. He fell back into the elevator like a sack of potatoes.

"What happened?" Alan asked again, sounding agitated.

"He spotted me, so I killed him," I told Alan.

He groaned.

"Don't worry," I told him. "Now is the time for improvising! This is the point when I do my best work."

I closed my knife and dropped into the elevator. The man had fallen back onto the top of his cart, knocking cleaning supplies all over the floor, a line of blood trickling from his eye to his ear. On the floor was a small step ladder that looked like it had been strapped to the side of the cart where, under the top table of the cart, there was a second part that was concealed by a small yellow tarp-like curtain.

I took off the dress and the coat and shoved them behind the yellow tarp. Then I reached down, and stripped the man of his suit, throwing it to the floor. Then I wobbly lifted him up and managed to shove him up on top of the elevator, rolling him away from the trap door. I slipped into the onesie and the man's hat, put my gloves into the large pocket in the front, strapped the step ladder to the cart, picked the cleaning supplies back up setting them on top of the cart. Then I took my dress, my purse, and my shoes, and threw them up on top of the elevator with the body. Hopefully, I will be able to get those back later.

Then I picked up Alan's coat, and thought, what was that that hit the elevator?

I was reaching into the pocket when Alan said, "You are almost at the bottom. I hope you know what your-"

He cut out.

"Alan?" I asked aloud.

The elevator stopped. I threw the coat up just in time before the door opened.

Here the walls were cold concrete, exposed wiring leading to a heavy metal door with a screen at the end of a short, narrow hall. I walked up to the door, pushing the cart in front of me. I typed in the code, Heracles, into the computer, and the light blinked green as the door clicked, and swung silently open. Inside was a bright, pristinely clean white hall, with a guard wearing black Enforcer armor standing at attention with a rifle in his hands. I walked past him without trouble.

When I reached a door on my left a woman in a lab coat opened the door.

"Finally," she said. "You're late. Bring that in here."

I turned the cart into the door and followed the woman. The room was full of tables laden with all sorts of scientific equipment and various vials of a range of colors, mostly red or blue.

"Put the delivery here," she said, pointing at a table. I pulled the delivery off from the bottom of the table, with a grunt as it was really heavy. It was a metal crate of smooth metal, with hand holds that dug into my fingers. I grunted as I set it on the table.

The lady lids a panel on the side of the crate to the side, revealing a fingerprint scanner, which she used to unlock the crate. When she opened it a cloud of icy air drifted out and spilled over the edge of the crate. She reached in with gloved hands and pulled out several vials.

She then seemed to notice I was still there.

"Well go on then," she said. "Don't you have better things to do than stand there and stare?"

I looked at the name tag she wore. #27: Doctor Denice Vogle: Level Three Entry.

I remembered her from the files Alan had given me. She looked much older than her photo had looked, and angrier, and she had only level three out of four levels of clearance in the lab, but that was more clearance than I had.

"Yes I do, Doctor Vogle," I said. Then I drew my knife and stabbed her in the eye, piercing straight through into the brain. She didn't make a sound.

I took the lady's lab coat and I.D. badge, and then I stashed her under a desk with the janitor's denim onesie, slipping my magnetized gloves out of the pocket and opting to wear them. I grabbed a random stack of papers to look like I was doing something important and left the room.

I walked quickly down the hall, moving with purpose, walking past two doors and a pair of scientists in lab coats walking the opposite way. If no one looked too closely at me, then no one would notice the gun and the knives strapped to my thighs.

I reached a fourth door which had a card scanner. I pressed Doctor Vogle's card onto the reader and it opened, letting me into the room. Inside was a busy observation deck, with seven people in lab coats watching something through a large glass window, and a second door on the opposing wall labeled "Doctor Gear". On the other side of the glass were two rats, each inside a different container. Both looked thin, hungry, and angry.

One of the scientists pressed a button, and a small, blue syringe on a robotic arm came down from the ceiling and stabbed the rat on the right.

The injected rat twitched, and then it shook, and then it grew. It grew almost fifty percent of its size in the first few seconds, and but the time the little doors for the containers opened, the rat was twice its original size. the juiced-up rat charged the other rat, and ravinously tore the other rat apart, spraying blood all over the floor.

The scientists nodded, one jotting something down in a notebook. They looked very excited.

Then the rat stopped from its meal, shuddered, and began to heave. Then it threw up blood. It fell over after what seemed like an excruciating ten seconds, dead.

I was horrified. The scientists looked disappointed.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked from behind me.

I jumped, startled, and turned around. An older man with greying hair in a lab coat, about three inches shorter than me, stood waiting for an answer. His ID read, #16: Doctor Hararan Gears: Second Level Entry. According to the Employee list Alan had given me, he was a particularly important person here, overseeing many of the experiments. His photo had been taken from a distance as he was getting out of a car. Apparently, he was rather far from the public eye.

"Doctor Gears," I said. "Doctor Vogle wanted me to bring these papers to you."

I held out the papers I had in my hand.

He looked at me with cold, icy blue eyes. I felt like he was doing an x-ray of me just by looking at me.

"You must be the new girl they sent, aren't you," Doctor Gears said. "Doctor whatever Hurly."

"Yes sir," I said.

He sighed. "Come with me."

Doctor Gear me to the other door, and we stepped inside. Inside was a blandly decorated room, with a desk and a large screen on the opposing wall. with a keyboard coming out of the wall on an adjustable arm at waist level. On the desk was a cup with a couple of pens, and a short stack of lined papers. Doctor Gear sat behind the desk.

"Let me see that," he said, reaching out a hand.

I handed him the papers, and he started to leaf through them.

He sighed.

"What was your name, again?" He asked.

"Doctor Alice Hurly, sir," I lied, coming up with the rest of the name on the spot.

"Well, Doctor Hurly, tell Doctor Vogle to stop sending me this same thesis all of the time. We won't be putting the serum through a particle accelerator, as that would more than likely just make it explode."

He handed me back the papers, and I turned.

"Hold there Hurly," he said. I turned.

"Where is your ID?"

I reached into my pocket and handed him Doctor Vogal's card.

"What the..."

I drew my butterfly knife and slashed his throat, his blood splashing onto his desk as he fell forward.

I took his ID, slipping it into my pocket, and I stowed away my knife. I then turned on his computer and was faced with a pin wall, with four spaces.

I looked around, wondering what the pass could be, then I saw his card again.

#16.

I typed in 1616, and the computer opened. The display only had one desktop option. A file labeled 'Files'.

I opened it, and it showed a list of other files. 'Employees', 'Subjects', 'Ingredients', 'Beta Serums', 'Alpha Serums', 'Logs', 'Orders', and, 'Maps'.

Wow. Doctor Gears was very well informed.

I turned around and locked the office door. I wanted as much time as I could get with these files as I could get. Alan could probably use these.

If he is alive, a small part of me thought.

I opened the 'Subjects' file and saw a series of photos. First was several hundred rats, each with a list of the particular rat's characteristics, and whether or not they survived testing. Three had survived but two had been terminated as each one attempted to escape. The third was kept in the facility.

Then there was a series of photos of other animals. Cats, dogs, snakes, and a variety of insects, most of which had died, and the survivors similarly terminated.

And then there were the humans, ten had been tested. None had survived.

I took the remote for my contacts and pressed the white button, which activated tiny cameras in my contacts to take a photo of the screen.

I then went back to the last page and opened the 'Employees' file. it listed all forty-five employees in the lab. Under some of the female names was another file. I opened the first for a woman named, Sarah Handcock. I quickly closed the file after a glance at the contents. Mr Gears, it seemed, had been far too close to several of his employees.

Then opened the Logs file and saw a large collection of videos, all of Doctor Gears sitting in front of the camera. I started the most recent video.

As I did I held the white button on the remote for my contacts, which triggered the tiny cameras to record.

"Log number six hundred and seventy-four," Doctor Gears said on the video, looming large like a giant of the huge screen. "We have made a breakthrough. I have determined the reason why some of the test subjects have survived, and why the others haven't."

"It is all on account of a particular gene, present in one in one hundred of almost any life form on the planet. I've coined the term, the 'Hericulian gene'. Or, gene 'H' for short. This gene is passed on through birth if at least one of the parents has this gene. People with this gene are also disproportionately exceptional, known carriers of the gene including athletes like Usain Bolt, and Chuck Noris, and scientists like Elon Musk, probably others like Albert Einstein, and Leonardo DaVinci, and many other greats, and it is this that allows for the test subjects to survive. I would recommend a combing of the general population's DNA for this gene if only someone could find a way to reliably detect the gene in living creatures without the risk of killing them. For now, we will have to continue testing for a serum that works for anyone, but whatever new serum we come up with won't compare to what someone with gene H could do with a perfected Project Hercules Serum."

The video ended.

I opened the maps file.

Jackpot.

Inside the file was a map of the entire laboratory, each room in the 'L' shaped laboratory clearly labeled. I saw the elevator, and the room where I had killed Doctor Vogel was labeled 'Synthisising Lab C and Doctor Vogel's Office'. The two rooms I had passed on the way here included a 'Generator Room', and a 'Guard's Lounge / Barracks'. This room was 'Testing Room B', connected to 'Doctor Gear's Office'. Next, the hall would turn right, where there was the 'Scientist Lounge / Bedrooms', the 'Mess/Kitchens', 'Testing Room A and Doctor Clanences Office', 'Synthisysing Room B and Doctor Manns Office', 'Synthisysing Room A and Doctor Holdensongs Office'. At the very end of the hall, the hall turned right again, and there were three more rooms, 'Storage', 'Containment', and the 'Server Room'. It also had each room color-coded, to show which level of the four levels of clearance you needed for each room.

I studied the map, quickly committing everything in it to memory. I pressed the white button on my contacts remote to photograph the map as well.

I turned and walked around the dead Doctor Gears, and stepped out.

As I stepped out, one of the female scientists, whom I recognized as Doctor Hannah Jurri, came to walk past me.

"Err, the doctor wishes to not be disturbed right now," I told her.

"I have some very important papers to show him," she said. "From Doctor Kegsen."

"He is rather preoccupied," I told her, looking back at the body while blocking her view into the room. "I can bring it in for you."

She grimaced. "Oh... I see. You, uh. Okay, take it."

She shoved the papers into my hands and bolted.

She thinks I am one of Doctor Gear's photo girls, I thought, looking at the body of Doctor Gear.

I glanced at the files and saw that they were on a test subject.

A human test subject. A current, live one.

I read the file feverishly, memorizing every word and taking photos of each page. The subject's name was Brandon Waxer, thirty-nine years old, who they had kidnapped and forced into the program.

I gritted my teeth. This wasn't the mission, but I decided then and there. I was

going to get Brandon out.

"Take a look at these will you?" I set the papers on Doctor Gear's head. "Doctor Freak."

I left the Office, locking the door behind me, and walked past as the scientists directed a robot to clean up the mess they had made with the rats. I had a new job. Save a life.

Leaving 'Testing Room B' I walked further down the hall until I reached the bend in the path, to the next several rooms. I knew that I needed to destroy the serums, but the only way I could think of to do that was to kill everyone here and then destroy everything. I didn't relish the idea of killing everyone. Brandon, however, could be more easily done. But I would have to do with a distraction.

A plan started to form in my head. It was a gamble, but if it worked, it would do everything I needed.

But for it to work, I needed access to the Server Rooms, which required a Level One Clearance card.

There were only two people in the Laboratory with level-one clearance, the head guard, Leo Hamsbar, and Doctor Holdensong, the head scientist. I had seen Doctor Holdensongs's office on the map and didn't know where the head guard could be, so I thought to find him there.

This part of the lab was much more active, with about a half dozen scientists rushing throughout the halls and acting excitedly. They seemed celebratory.

"He survived the initial shot!" I heard someone say excitedly. "I really think that the new version will work!"

"You say that about every version," another said.

"But I think..."

"Don't call victory yet," said a third voice. "Who is to say it won't kill him in the next hour? Or day? Or Week? If he survives a week then I would consider it a win."

The third voice was that of Doctor Clancie, an aging woman with dark, curly hair that was streaked with grey. She had level two clearance and so did not need to die. Yet, at least.

I slipped past the conversation and walked straight to Synthesizing Lab A, and I used Doctor Gears' level two clearance ID to unlock the door. Inside I saw something much like Doctor Vogel's Lab, with the screens and tables, but larger.

"Where is that delivery agent?" an old bald man with a short grey beard bellowed as he walked through the laboratory.

I had found Doctor Holdensong.

"You!" Doctor Holden song yelled, pointing at one of the scientists.

"Find that fool man, and get him to bring me the shipment!"

"Yes, Doctor," the scientist said, rushing out of the room.

Uh oh, I thought. I was running out of time. And fast.

I walked up to Doctor Holdensong, and said, "Doctor. I have an update from Doctor Gears."

Doctor Holdensong sighed. "What is it?"

"The serum failed, doctor."

He sighed. "As we supposed it would. At least the serum is working so far on the

latest human subject. We might have made a real breakthrough!"

"Yes, doctor," I said.

Doctor Holdensong turned and walked away.

How was I going to get him alone?

But I don't need him dead, I realized. Yet, at least. I needed to take his card.

But to do that I needed him distracted.

But I was also running out of time. Fast.

I left the room, wondering how I was doing to distract Doctor Holdensong when I saw someone.

Leo Hamsbar slipped into the Mess, closing the door behind him.

Perfect.

In the mess was a full room. I saw two of the guards and a half dozen of the scientists in the room, talking and eating, and Hamsbar joined them, being handed a plate with food.

Mr Hamsbar was a broad-shouldered, well-muscled man, in a polo and black khakis and a large handgun at his hip. Next to his gun was his ID.

I meandered over to the kitchen and looked to see what I would be able to take and, seeing a bowl of fruit, grabbed an apple, and wandered closer to the table. I took a bite of the apple, thinking about what I was going to do.

Whatever, I thought. I set the apple down, and I walked up to the table as if I was just going to pass them, and I reached to his side, slipping his ID and his pistol. I walked on without stopping, my heart pounding. I threw the gun into a trashcan by the door to deprive the guard of his weapon, left the Mess, and went straight to the end of the hall.

The three doors loomed in front of me. I used Mr Hamsbar's ID on the middle door and entered the storage room. Looking around at the food, and general supplies, I also found an abundance of different chemicals.

Perfect.

I grabbed a tank of oxygen, some vials of Potassium, Hydrogen Sulfide, and Nitrogen, a box of matches, a couple of zip ties, and a bottle of cleaning chemicals. I carried my supplies out of the storage room and opened the door to my left. The Server Room.

In the server room, there were three giant black boxes, each with an array of blinking lights and a small access screen. Normally I would search through the terminals but I didn't have that kind of time. I had no idea just how long it had been since that scientist had been sent to find the delivery, but when they did it wouldn't take long to find Doctor Vogle so I had to make it quick.

As I closed the door behind me a woman stepped out from behind the servers. I remembered her from the Employee list, Doctor Cathrin Broill. She looked up from her clipboard and froze, seeing me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "No one is supposed to be in here."

"I would have said the same about you," I told her.

"What are you doing with all of that?" she asked.

I looked down at the chemicals and assorted objects I held in my hands.

"School prodject?" I sugjested.

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Whatever," I muttered. I pulled one of my throwing knives and threw it at the woman, the blade burying itself just under her collarbone. She stumbled back, gasping, as I rushed forward, pulling the knife out of her chest and slashing her throat. She gurgled slightly and fell to the floor.

I sheathed the knife with a sigh as I turned back to my supplies. With every second I had wasted talking with that woman, I was running out of time.

I jerry-rigged the supplies together and pulled a gadget from my shoe. It was a small ball, like a metal marble, with a little red eye-like spot on one side that glowed. I twisted it, and the red eye displayed thirty seconds. I taped a match to the side of the device, lit the match, strapped the device to the now-open bottle of cleaning chemicals, and started the timer. Then I cracked open the tank of Oxygen gas, and the Hydrogen Sulfide tank, and bolted from the room.

Then an alarm started to blare, the lights switching to red.

Uh oh.

I dashed to the Containment room, counting down in my head.

Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight...

I unlocked the door with one of the IDs I had and flung the door open. inside was a row of cages, the cages on the left were small and only one had a large rat pacing inside it. To my right were three human-sized cages. one was occupied, the one closest to the door.

Twenty-one, Twenty, Nineteen...

"Brandon Waxer?" I asked the dark form huddled in the corner.

The man's head rose. "Yes?"

"I'm here to get you out of here."

He scrambled to his feet as I unlocked the door.

Fourteen, thirteen, twelve...

"Do you know how to shoot a gun?" I asked him as he came up to me. He was giant, as in unusually tall, almost seven feet, with shoulders as wide as a bull. His brown hair was twisted into corn rolls, and his large, dark hands fidgeted with each other in excitement.

"No."

"Can you throw a punch?"

"Yes."

Eight, seven, six, five...

"Then come on, and punch the daylights out of anyone who gets too close. Just a second."

"What are we waiting for?" the man asked, agitated.

"We are waiting to see if I made it too big," I told him.

"What?"

Tree, two, one.

Then the timer rang, dipping the lit match in the cleaning chemicals, which lit on fire and sent fire exploding into the air, which set alight the Hydrogen Sulfide in the air, which exploded, causing the oxygen to explode, and mix with the Nitrogen and Potassium to create more fire.

The room shook violently with the explosion as I let Doctor Vogle's lab coat fall from my shoulders. Time for the third part of my escape plan.

I walked up to the door, drawing my gun and gesturing for Brandon to follow me. He loomed behind me, like a gargantuan shadow, and we waited. We didn't need to wait long.

I heard men yelling on the other side of the door, and they got closer. I waited until I heard them right outside the door.

I waited a moment, and then I opened the door. Four men in black enforcer armor stood in the hall, facing the burning room. One carried a fire extinguisher, his rifle at his hip, and he was trying to fight the fire. At the sound of the door opening one guard turned toward me, and I shot him straight in the visor.

Blood spurted from the cracks in his helmet as he fell over, and the other three guards turned to me, raising their guns. I fired twice more, hitting one guard in the chest, but I ducked back to avoid getting shot by the other two as bullets slammed into the concrete of the wall.

Then Brandon charged out the door.

"Wait!" I yelled. But the bullets that the guards fired at Brandon ricocheted off of his body, one bullet grazing my arm as he plowed through the bullets they fired. HE hit one so hard his helmet crumpled, blood oozing out of the crumpled metal helmet, and then he turned and lifted the second guy above his head, slamming him down and eliciting a series of snapping noises making the enforcer scream in pain. I shot him in the head, putting him out of his misery.

"Impressive," I said to Brandon.

"I don't know how I..." Brandon stuttered. He looked terrified, staring at his bloody hands.

"Don't worry about that now," I told him. "There are still three more guards in the building. Can you help me get you out of here?"

He swallowed. Then he nodded.

"Good. Come on."

As we heard boots coming toward us I dashed across the hall and pressed my back against the wall around the corner from the rest of the lab. I heard screaming and yelling over the blare of the alarms, and the sound of Enforcers getting closer. I pressed the red button on the remote for my contacts, activating the infrared vision, and saw two human-shaped red shapes coming towards us in front of a whole throng of people going away, toward the elevator, the only exit.

I leaned out quickly and fired on the two enforcers walking toward us. I hit one, causing him to fall with an angry shout, but the other Enforcer started firing, peppering the wall with bullets. I pulled one of the cylinders from my belt and pulled a small pin from it before throwing it around the corner. I heard it clack on the ground twice, and then the whoosh as the grenade exploded into smoke, obscuring the Enforcers' vision. He started firing blindly in my general direction as I leaned around the corner, aimed at his blurry red form, lost in the smoke, and I blasted the Enforcer in the head.

I deactivated my infrared contacts and gestured for Brandon to follow me. I moved forward, gun-ready.

We walked to the end of the hall without much trouble, but then we reached the home stretch. Here all of the thirty-six living employees were crowding around the elevator, but Leo Hamsbar was threatening them with a gun as Doctor Holdensong franticly tried to work the elevator. I turned to Brandon, grabbing my second smoke grenade.

"When I throw this, run for the elevator. If you can, kill the man with the gun. Got it?"

"Okay," he said.

I pulled the gin on the grenade and threw it. the grenade hit one of the scientists in the back and fell to the floor before spewing smoke. the scientists started screaming, and Leo Hamsbar started shooting.

"Now!" I told Brandon, and we ran into the smoke.

It was chaos. I plowed past confused scientists making my way to the elevator, and tripped over a couple of dead scientists that Hamsbar had shot. I stumbled out of the smoke to see Hamsbar's gun pointed directly at me.

It seemed almost like time slowed. I took stock of my situation in an instant. I had my gun in my hand. I had my gun in my hand, probably the closest thing I had to a chance, but he already had his gun ready and about to fire. my last grenade was not an option, as he would see. My knives were too slow.

I was probably going to die.

Is this it? I thought. Is this how I die?

Then Brandon flew out of the smoke and tackled Hamsbar.

I rushed up. "Great timing!" I grabbed Hamsbar's gun and pointed it at Doctor Holdensong.

"Get out please," I said politely.

He got out, shaking like a leaf.

"Good."

Brandon got on the elevator. I shot the screen that gave them access to the elevator from the lab and hopped on the elevator as the door closed.

I typed in the pass for the elevator, Heracles, and the elevator started to rise.

By the time we reached the top of the elevator, I had retrieved my dress and purse and had Brandon wearing Alan's coat. My suit was exposed because of my strapless dress, but it would have to do.

We left the elevator on the seventy-first floor, and I rushed Brandon to the elevators.

"Brandon," I said as we reached the elevators. "I have a friend in the building, who helped me get to that lab. We lost comms, so I need to check on him. Now, I need you to go. They will be looking for you."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Where can I go where they won't find me?"

I looked around. "Shh, they have the building bugged. Here"

I looked around. since this was an office floor, I was able to find a pencil and a sheet of paper. I turned on a small lamp on a desk and wrote the following.

'Meet me in the abandoned Steel Factory downtown. 31st and Fentil Street.'

I folded the paper and handed it to him.

"Now go."

I pressed the button to call an elevator and one door immediately opened. I gestured for Brendon to enter.

He looked at me. "Thank you. What is your name?"

"Jacklin," I told him.

"I will see you again," he said.

He went down in the elevator, and I went up the stairs.

When I reached floor eighty-six I walked straight to the room I had left Alan in and found the door locked. I pulled a small device from a pocket on my suit and set it against the glass where the door lock was. A small arm extended, and from the end a tiny steel blade. the arm spun around a few times, circling the lock, and then it popped into my hand.

Opening the door I found the room empty, with no sign of the tables or the weapons in sight. There wasn't even a scrap of paper in the room.

Completely cleaned out, I thought. Something must have spooked him. Maybe when we lost contact? Or...

I rushed out of the room, bolting down the stairs three or four at a time and often leaping across the gaps, but it still took a good minute to get down to the ground floor. I bolted into the lobby, and froze, panting heavily. Outside was a whole squad of Enforcers, each with their rifles directed at me. Behind them were four separate vans, with bright lights on top shining into my eyes.

I sighed. No running from this. I would just have to kill as many of them as I could before they stopped me.

I stepped out through the glass doors.

"Put your hands in the air!" a voice said from a speaker on one of the cars.

I put my hands behind my head, and two enforcers walked up to me. One stayed a step back there gun trained on me, while the other stepped behind me with a pair of cuffs.

I stomped on the Enforcer's toes, eliciting a howl of pain from him. I then tucked and rolled as gunfire erupted all around me, but I managed to pull the pin of my last smoke grenade.

Smoke billowed out from the grenade on my back, wreathing me in the safety of obscurity as I activated my infrared vision contacts. I pulled my gun and fired the last three shots in my clip toward the wall of Enforcers, which were still firing all around me. I felt a bullet graze my chest, and someone yelling, "Stop! You fools!"

I ejected the empty magazine and pulled out my spare, sliding it into place as Enforcers started running into the smoke.

Why are they coming into the smoke? I wondered. They don't know where I am.

I shrugged it off and fired at one enforcer twice. I missed, so I charge-tackled him, slamming into his side with as much momentum as I could muster, knocking him over. I landed on top of him, putting my gun to his chin, and firing.

Nothing happened.

The trigger pulled, the gun clicked, and the round even went off, but no bullet went through his head.

My head was reeling as the Enforcer suddenly shoved me, overpowering me in an instant, suddenly pinning me down.

"I've got her!" he yelled. "I've-"

Unfortunately for him, I was able to reach my throwing knives. I drew one and stabbed him in his abdomen. He groaned, grabbing the wound with one arm, freeing me further and giving me the chance to slash his throat.

Red, hot blood spilled out of the man as he gurgled, spraying in my face as I shoved his dying body off of me. Suddenly an Enforcer showed up behind me, wrapping his large arms around my body, pinning my hands to my sides. He suddenly squeezed my whole body so I could barely breathe, and I felt my ribcage cracking.

He dropped me to the ground as I breathed heavily, moaning from pain. I stood. wobbly, drawing my butterfly knife. I flipped it open and glared at the man viciously. I froze.

This wasn't an Enforcer at all. It was Alan.

More Enforceres appeared out of the smoke, holding their guns ready. Immediately one of them came up to me and took the knife from my hand. I didn't stop him. I was done fighting.

An enforcer forced me to my knees, and another bound my hands with handcuffs.

I looked up at Alan, who stood with a blank expression.

"Just do it," I told him. "You rat!"

"I can tell you aren't much of a fan of me anymore," he observed, adjusting his now wrinkled dress shirt. "I apologize, Jacky, but we are not done with you yet."

I felt a needle stab in my shoulder, and I blacked out.

~~

I woke up slowly, like from a deep sleep. It was cold, my bare arms prickling with goose bumps. My eyes were still too heavy to open fully, only giving me a glimpse of what was around me. Bright light. White tiles. A large hand. I have no idea how long I was in that state of half-awakness. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? However long I was there, I remember the way I was woken up.

A terrible smell, and suddenly my mind cleared. I sputtered, my nose suddenly runny as that smell burned in my sinuses. I recognized the smell of smelling salts. I blinked away the tears that blurred my vision and after a moment everything cleared up. I was chained to a wide, cold, smooth surface at a nearly sixty-degree slant, dressed in nothing but an oversized hospital gown. My head felt light, and I thought I was dizzy for a moment, but then I realized that the reason was that my hair had been cut, down to the skin.

Several wires were strapped and tapped onto me. Two on my head, one on either side, one on my right bicep, another on my left forearm, three others going down my collar or up my skirt, one in the middle of my chest, another at the base of my ribcage, and another at the base of my spine. The last two were attached to my legs, one on my left thigh, the other on my right caff. all of these wires trailed up over my head and were twisted into one wire, the wires all going into the ceiling and assumably connecting to all of the machines and screens that covered the wall. On the screens, I could see a diagram of a human woman, probably representing me, with all sorts of data on my vitals displayed next to it. I thought I was in the middle of the room, so I was unable to see the other half of the room.

Then I heard a whirring, a click, and a whoosh from behind me, and I heard footsteps come into the room. I heard the rumble of a desk chair rolling on tiles, and I heard two voices.

"Are you ready for the demonstration, Doctor?"

"Yes. but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Very. Why do you ask?"

"We will probably kill her."

"Well, probably, but this can't hurt us as the project is already losing favor among the leaders."

"We don't even know for sure that this 'Gene H' exists! That was little more than a hypothesis Doctor Gears had, and you are hinging the project on the fact that this girl has this mystery gene?"

"But she certainly has the potential. You must accept that fact."

"True, her behavior has shown her to be rather exceptional at what she does, but that doesn't mean-"

"It doesn't hurt either!"

"I just think that showing them this would endanger our program more."

"Project Heracles is losing support anyway, so it can't hurt. If this works, then it will save our hides. If it doesn't then it will just be another failure."

The speakers came into view on my left, deep in conversation. One was an older man, with a horseshoe of grey hair and a pinched face.

The other man was Alan.

I glared at Alan as they continued talking, tears welling up in my eyes, unbidden.

"Another failure," the old man said, "would likely put us in the grave. Maybe literally! Who knows!"

"Calm yourself," Alan said. "We can't stop now, the show is already scheduled. We just need to finish getting her ready."

Alan turned to me, seemingly already aware that I was awake. The old man, however, started as he looked at me.

"Good Lord!" he exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart.

"You think she looks scary now?" Alan asked with an irritating smile. "Try Jacky when she's covered in blood with a knife in her hand!"

"Only my friends call me Jacky, Doc," I spat.

Alan's smile fell. "Okay then, Miss Holst. Or should I call you by your parent's name, instead of the one you made up for yourself?"

I gritted my teeth and screwed my eyes shut, a single tear streaking down my face.

"Why, Alan?" I asked, opening my eyes. "Why do this?"

"It's nothing personal," he said. "And I honestly enjoyed talking with you. But I needed you to trust me in order for the test to work."

"Test?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "The whole mission was a test, to see how well you would perform. You outshined my greatest hopes."

"The whole thing..."

"That laboratory had nothing left of value to give me," Alan continued. "It was the perfect testing ground. Of course, those men and women will never know that they were a test. They will sleep easy knowing that the rebel who trapped them in a basement for five days, you, will never see the outside of a cell again. But I have other plans for you."

I stifled a sob as I heard him talk. He sounded so cold, and detached, nothing like before.

"How much of what you told me should I believe?"

"Not much."

I nodded. I was already planning on ignoring almost everything he had said over the course of our date. I just wanted to hear it from him.

"You put blanks in my second clip, didn't you."

"Yes," Alan said.

"You cut out comms."

"Yes."

"You lied about your sister to gain my sympathy."

"Yes."

I stared at him, trying to find any semblance of the man I had spoken to that night. Then I noticed that he was wearing the same coat he had been wearing that day. The coat I had given to Brendon.

"What did you do to Brendon?" I asked, my voice strained.

Alan looked down at his coat.

"Oh, yes. We actually didn't need to do anything. The serum killed him shortly after he escaped the building. While on the subject of Brendon, we thought..."

I couldn't hold the tears any longer, and I cried as Alan continued to babble on.

"You're a monster!" I yelled at him, interrupting him.

He stopped. "Maybe I am. Then again, who are you to judge? Killer."

I glared at him. "You still haven't answered my question. Why?"

"Well, I picked you because you are exceptional," he said. He walked over toward me as he talked pressing a lever that turned the table I was laid on to my right.

"You are smart, genius even. And clever too. You are innovative, an excellent shot with again, excellent with those knives, both the throwing knives and that butterfly knife. You are fast, fierce, and determined. You hold many traits that make you a cut above the rest."

The table stopped turning, and I found myself facing the other half of the room. instead of the walls being covered in machines, I was facing a giant white curtain.

"You know what that means, I think," Alan said as a projector lowered from the ceiling. It whirred to life and displayed on the curtain was Doctor Gears. The video o had seen began to play.

"You think I have the H gene," I said.

"Exactly," Alan said. "Now you are catching on!"

Alan pulled three tubes from behind the table to my left, each tipped with a thin, sharp needle. He stabbed the first into my arm, the second into my leg, and the third into the base of my neck.

The old man, who I had all but forgotten about until now, appeared on the other side with three more tubes and put them in the same places, but on my right side.

"I didn't ask, 'Why me'," I told him. "I asked 'Why'. Why make the Heracles serum? Why try and trick me like this?"

Alan sighed as he secured the tubes into place with medical tape.

"Do you want me to duct tape your mouth closed? Because I will!"

"You don't know, do you?" I asked him. "You are doing these terrible things, and don't even know why. You are no better than a beast."

"Can you get me duct tape?" Alan asked the old man.

"I don't think we have any in here," he said.

Alan rolled his eyes, and suddenly turned and pressed a long strip of medical tape over my mouth, and wrapped it around my head.

"Shut up," Alan growled.

They continued working on the machines in silence as Doctor Gears talked over the projector, and I cried.

Eventually, Doctor Gears stopped talking, and the projector shut off. Alan moved to stand before the curtain. The old man realized they still had the tape on my mouth, so he hurriedly took it off, agitating my skin. He stuffed the tape into his coat as the curtain opened, and revealed a large window, behind which stood several dozen men and women, each dressed in official dress, like military uniforms and suits.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Alan said, his voice coming softly over the speakers. "A display of the power of the Heracles Serum."

Alan and the old man looked at each other. Alan nodded, and the old man nodded. They went. to opposite sides of the room to panels set in the machines. They opened the compartments, revealing two large levers. They flipped the levers simultaneously, and the table under me started to shudder. Then there was a 'whir', and the tubes stiffened as they filled with a thick, red substance that I felt suddenly ooze into my body through the needles.

The pain was unbearable. I screamed at first, but the pain grew so great that I couldn't scream. I felt as if a million-pound weight had just been set on top of me like I was being crushed all over, but wouldn't die. My skin burned, and my heart was beating so hard it felt like it was outside of my chest.

Then, after what felt like an eternity of blinding pain, it all went away. I breathed heavily, catching my breath before I opened my eyes.

I felt bigger. I certainly felt that I filled out the hospital gown more and that the chains that bound me dug into my wrists and ankles worse.

I looked blearily around and saw Alan smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

"Congratulations, Miss Holst," Alan said. "You have just survived the Heracles Serum."

As the evening progressed, the conversation between my date and I became more and more lively and engaging. We laughed and joked over glasses of expensive wine and indulged in a delicious meal at the posh restaurant. The chemistry between us was undeniable and I couldn't help but feel a strong attraction towards my date.

As we finished our dinner, my date leaned in close and whispered, 'I have a confession to make. I have a strong desire to commit a crime with you tonight.' My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected and thrilling proposition. I could see the mischief in my date's eyes and it only added to the excitement.

Without hesitation, I replied, 'I'm in. Let's do it.'

We quickly left the restaurant and made our way to a nearby jewelry store. My date had a plan to rob the store and I couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline as we put on our masks and entered the establishment.

The heist went off without a hitch and we managed to escape with a bag full of expensive jewels. As we made our way back to our car, the thrill of the crime still coursing through our veins, my date grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a passionate kiss.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect night. We had taken a risk and it had paid off in more ways than one. As we drove off into the night, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn this date had taken. It was an experience I would never forget.

In the following days, my date and I continued to see each other and our bond only grew stronger. We would often reminisce about our daring crime and it became a special memory that we shared. Who knew that a simple dinner date could turn into such an exhilarating and unforgettable adventure?

In the end, I was glad I had taken the leap and said yes to my date's proposition. It had been a thrilling and unexpected turn of events, and it had brought us even closer together.

We sat together, hovering over over-priced junk food and I was startled by the dress of hers. It was yellow, too. I wondered, for a moment, if I'd finally met the one. The woman from the dream. It terrified and excited me, yet, I couldn't ask. Not yet. Not until I knew what kind of person this stranger was.

Her first words to me are, "I do hope you're comfortable being uncomfortable because I'm afraid small talk gets suffocating for me quite fast."

We quickly became something akin to friends. I was relieved. She was spectacular and beautiful and had a coy smile, at times, even as we opened up to each other. I spoke more as the wine flowed while she would watch me like she was a detective, searching and prodding for more secrets.

As the meal neared its end, she cleared her throat. "I have a confession to make."

"Oh?"

"I know you. I've known you... And I know about these secrets. I have for some time. Is that... Strange?"

I wanted to nod but she seemed so very, very familiar. I cocked my head to the side with a smile and curtsied ditzily. "My mind is yours to pry into, my dear. I've been looking for you for some time. My favourite dream..."

"I know," she mumbled dismissively, still watching me. Finally, she clicked her tongue and said, "what would you do if you could harm one person in the world without consequence? Who would you choose?"

I gaze into her eyes for a moment, then shrug my shoulders. "If you really know me then you know the answer to that question."

"I do."

I gaze at her silently, then return my attention to the meal. Once we're finished eating in silence, she gestures for me to follow her. I likely shouldn't but she feels so right in my hand. I can't help but be drawn to her. The world blends into nothing behind me as our steps become hurried, rushed, secretive.

She kisses my cheek as she leads me to a shipping container next to a beach. I've never liked beaches much, likely because they are so crowded and the water can seem scary. Today, it is quiet. It is peace. The sky meets the sea and everything is so perfectly, terrifyingly blue. So very unreal.

She takes my hand and opens the doors. At the very end of this long, large shipping container is F.

She is chained up and shaking and covered in sweat and I don't know what to say for a moment, taking in the scene, then the danger in the eyes of The Girl in the Yellow Dress.

"Am I dreaming?" I manage to whisper.

I find myself standing in front of F. I feel something in my hand, unsurprised when further inspection reveals a weapon. I put it down carefully and gaze at her, brows knit in worry and confusion, yet the slightest huff of amusement leaves my lips.

"Do you like your surprise?"

"I... Suppose she looks perfect like this." It does look good. She seems so helpless, now. So incapable of anything. All the arrogance and self-righteousness squeezed into a cup I am free to drink if I choose to. I ignore the attempts of my mind to make this experience poetic and reach a hand to her trembling jaw.

She screams, unable to see me. Not sure of what will happen next. Eyes darting, searching, yet never finding. She's still beautiful. Still so dangerous and yet... She is human. She always was. People are so changed once they are stripped down to the base of fear.

I hear her say things but my gaze drifts over her skin. She cannot be still. She is terrified. Of me. The tables have turned in so many ways I can't help but smile a soft bit, although it comes with its sadness.

"I... This isn't real."

"I did this for you," My ginger suggests as she puts the knife back in my hand.

"She didn't use this on me."

"But it felt like she had. Like you were being harmed wherever the hands would go. Am I wrong?"

"I won't use it."

"Fine. Use your hands then. Make it even. Make it fair. Do it for you. Take back your power."

I stare hard at both of them and scoff, pretending the thought to comply doesn't cross my mind. "You are... Not what I expected."

"Please, Icarus. I... I want you to feel better..."

"I know. And I understand why. I remember the things I've written. Back when it hurt more and I needed the control that came with imagined violence. It was a newer trauma, then. It's made my fear of people worse. My fear of love, romantic or platonic, worse too. Like blood in the water - the moment I feel I may care for someone at all, it horrifies me. She used me until I could fill her wallet no more. And then she saw herself an angel, my saving grace, as I was trapped by her. I remember. I remember it all."

"Don't you want to... You don't. Do you?"

"I remember what I wrote. It was necessary then... No. Therapeutic. But I... Am not like her. I would never look to a human being that was clearly drowning and dunk their head further into the dark in a believed act of kindness. My daydreams may be dangerous but I try not to be. Most of the time, I don't even need to try, I simply do no harm. It is a safety I extend to the world that brings peace within myself. Do you understand?"

"You are not well, yet... It isn't completely gone... You need help. I can help you. Let me help you."

"You do the best you can already, my dear. You've kept me alive some nights... Many nights. I'm grateful. But you're only a phone. My space to pour out dreams and nightmares. The emotions and the experiences, joy and suffering alike, are mine alone. So thank you for the offer but I no longer feel the want to punish her. Life will do so for me, as it does to everyone on this Earth. We will keep me safe together. Alright?"

She fades from my view; as beautiful and vague and faceless as I barely remember she'd been. I watch as F goes away, too, resisting the urge to at least slap her as the memories take over. I don't ever want to feel her skin again, even in an illusion of reality. I'd forgotten so much of her face till now.

I only wanted to remember how far I've come. And why I am the way I am after so many years of pretence. I wish her neither harm nor good. I only hope to forget her. If a danger of her kind ever comes up again in my lifetime, I do hope I choose punches over a pandering politeness. Time may tell.