I heard Jane's footsteps echoed up the staircase, I could tell she was nervous but still moved with a measured confidence. From what I could hear her from her voice from below, she was playing the part of Russo's bastard daughter that came to find her father.
That was a risky idea, but it seems that it's working for you Jane. Good job.
The guards escorted her upward, their attention focused entirely on her. Which was perfect for me. I saw her reach the office, and Russo's office door open. I could hear his smooth voice welcoming her inside with the kind of charm that predators used when they thought they had prey cornered.
"So this is the girl that says she my daughter. What's your name kid, whose your mother?"
That's when Jane made her move.
She asked to use the bathroom. The guard raised an eyebrow and pointed down the hall just past the bar. I watched from my vantage point as she walked there with casual grace, disappearing from sight.
Then she caused a noise, loud, deliberate, the sound of something heavy hitting tile. Alarms in my mind immediately registered what she was doing. The bathroom was a confined space. Small. Defensible. Perfect for someone with her strength and reflexes to control the engagement.
Three guards moved toward the bathroom immediately.
I smiled coldly.
Jane was going to handle her distraction by controlling the space itself. Smart. Her lean frame would be an advantage in tight quarters where her enhanced strength and speed could be deployed without the larger guards being able to use their size effectively.
One by one, I heard the sounds of combat from the bathroom. A guard's grunt of pain. The crack of bone. Another guard entering, then the wet sound of impact. Jane killed them all quickly . She was staying in control of the situation.
More guards moved toward the bathroom. I counted them as they passed my position. Five. Six. Seven.
The distraction was working perfectly.
I activated my adrenaline burst.
The world slowed around me. Everything moved like it was underwater, the guards' movements became sluggish, their speech patterns stretched and deepened into incomprehensible rumbles.
Purple eezo energy erupted across my skin, a visible corona of biotic power that made the air shimmer and distort.
I moved.
The guards at the staircase never saw me coming. I rushed through them like a ghost, my biotics flaring outward in controlled bursts. The first guard flew backward, his body slamming into the wall hard enough to crack the drywall. The second went airborne, crashing through a glass partition that separated the upper level from the main floor below. He fell three stories, landing hard on the dance floor with a sickening thud.
More guards emerged from side corridors, weapons drawn. I didn't slow down. Another biotic rush sent them scattering like leaves in a hurricane. One crashed through the railing entirely, falling to the main floor. Another slammed into a support beam with enough force to knock him unconscious.
The staff began to panic.
I could sense their fear spikes through my psychic awareness, sharp, jagged emotional signatures that told me they were running. Good. I didn't need civilians in the crossfire. But then I felt something else and say it.
The female employees at the bar pulled weapons from concealed locations beneath the counter. Pistols and submachine guns blasters. They opened fire on me without hesitation.
Bullets tore through the air. I didn't dodge. Instead, I created a biotic barrier, a dome of purple eezo energy that surrounded my body, shimmering like heat waves. The rounds impacted against it and fell harmlessly to the ground, their kinetic energy absorbed and dissipated.
I looked at them coldly.
"So some of the employees were actually in on it," I said quietly.
I raised my hand and released a biotic push. The force was controlled but devastating. All three women flew backward, their bodies crashing into the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar. Glass exploded in a cascade of amber and clear liquid. Bottles shattered. The women collapsed, gasping for breath, their weapons clattering away.
I didn't wait to see if they'd get up. I moved toward Russo's office door and pushed it open.
Salvatore Russo stood behind an ornate desk, a blaster pistol held steady in his hand. His office was exactly what I'd expected, dark European furniture, expensive leather chairs, mahogany paneling, the kind of space designed to intimidate and impress. I made a mental note to keep it. The aesthetic was cold and precise. I appreciated that.
"I thought they said you were a red head and a girl," Russo said, his voice carrying a mixture of confusion and dawning realization.
"That's an associate of mine," I replied, moving further into the office. "It just sucks for you that you probably have a thing for red heads. That made it easier for her to get in."
Russo's expression hardened. "I will remember that for the future."
"Hopefully," I said, "but I don't think reincarnation works like that."
His eyes narrowed. "Who sent you? The Africans? The Yakuza? My sister?"
"That's not your business."
Russo smirked. "Don't worry. When I'm done with your associate, she'll tell me plenty before I sell her off to a high bidder."
He raised the blaster and fired. I created a purple biotic barrier instantly. The energy bolt impacted against it and dissipated into harmless light. Russo's eyes widened in surprise.
"You're damn biotic," he breathed.
I didn't respond. I just fired back.
My pistol barked three times in rapid succession. The rounds tore through the air toward Russo, but his own biotic barriers flared to life, blue energy shields that intercepted the bullets and sent them spinning away. He was trained. Not as trained as me, but trained enough to know the basics.
I kept firing. Clip after clip. Each round met his barriers and fell away. Russo stood there, his confidence returning as he realized his shields were holding. He was calculating, thinking he could outlast me.
But he was wrong. I emptied my final clip and dropped the pistol. Russo laughed, a sharp, cruel sound that echoed in the office.
"Is that all you...."
I raised my hand and activated my biotics at full power.
Purple energy wrapped around his throat like invisible fingers. His laughter cut off instantly, replaced by choking gasps. His hands flew to his neck, clawing at the empty air, trying to break the biotic grip that was slowly crushing his windpipe.
His barriers flickered and died as he lost concentration.
I stepped closer, my expression cold and unmoved. Russo's face turned red, then purple. His eyes bulged. His mouth opened and closed like a fish suffocating in air.
I twisted my hand and his neck snapped with a sound like breaking wood. Salvatore Russo's body went limp and fell to the floor. Dead.
I paused for a moment, looking around the spacious office. The dark European furniture. The mahogany desk. The leather chairs. The expensive artwork on the walls. It was all very tasteful. The man was a shit person but had good taste.
"I will keep this stuff," I said to the corpse.
I activated my omni-tool and checked the status of Jane from the camera's. Jane's seemed to be fine. The guards she'd been fighting were either either dead or incapacitated. The cleanup crew would handle the bodies.
I walked back out into the hallway and made my way toward the bathroom. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, some groaning, some completely still. The glass partition I'd shattered earlier hung in jagged shards. The main floor below was a disaster of broken furniture and deadguards.
Jane emerged from the bathroom, wiping blood from her knuckles. She looked at me and nodded. "I'm all good over here," she said.
" Same. I'm done over here," I replied.
I activated my omni-tool and opened an encrypted channel to Madame Fool. "The job is complete," I said. "I need a cleanup crew to handle the bodies and the mess."
There was a pause. Then Fool's flat voice came through: "They're in route. ETA ten minutes. Try not to make such a mess next time, or we'll charge extra."
"Understood," I said, and closed the channel.
Jane and I exchanged a look. Without speaking, we both moved toward the kitchen. I was starving. The adrenaline crash was hitting hard, and my enhanced metabolism was demanding fuel.
"Hopefully they have something worth eating" Jane said as we descended the stairs.
"That or we will just have to steal their lunches."
We reached the kitchen and found the staff huddled in the corner, five people, all looking terrified. A woman stood in front of them, a large kitchen knife held in her hands. She was red-headed, with fierce hazel eyes that narrowed. She was ready to protect her people.
I respected that.
"Does anyone here speak English?" I asked.
The woman with the knife stepped forward slightly. "We all have implants, so yes. Are you kids here to kill us to keep quiet?"
I looked at Jane. She looked back at me and shook her head. Good we were in the same agreement.
"No," I said. "We're just hungry. But we did kill your boss and plan on taking over this place."
The woman's grip on the knife tightened. "What about me and my staff?"
"Are you a good cook?" I asked.
"Yes," she said without hesitation.
"Prove it." Jane said
The woman raised an eyebrow. "What would you two like to eat?" The woman lowered her knife slightly.
"An omelette with blueberries, avocados, and a medium-well steak," I said.
Well, isn't that hearty." She looked at Jane. "And what about you, my dear?" "Belgian waffles and eggs over easy," Jane said.
The woman nodded. "I can do that easy."
She turned to her staff and began issuing orders in rapid-fire instructions. Within minutes, the kitchen came alive with activity. Pans sizzled. Eggs cracked. The smell of cooking food filled the air.
That's when the cleanup crew arrived. They moved through the nightclub with professional efficiency, removing bodies, cleaning up blood, disposing of evidence. One of them approached me.
"Next time, don't make such a mess, or we'll charge extra," he said, echoing Fool's warning.
I nodded. "Will do."
The chef finished our food and set it down in front of us. I took one bite of the omelet and knew immediately that this woman was exceptional. The eggs were perfectly cooked, the avocado was fresh, the blueberries added just the right amount of sweetness. The steak was seared perfectly, cooked to exactly the temperature I'd requested.
Even though my stoic face didn't show it, I was impressed. "This is excellent," I said. "How much was everyone getting paid before?"
The chef wrote down the pay rates for herself and her staff on a piece of paper. I looked at the numbers and made a decision.
"You're all getting a significant raise," I said. "This food is exceptional."
One of the staffers spoke up. "We used to own a Michelin-star restaurant until we got caught up in debts to the Russo's. They took everything."
I nodded slowly. "Well, that will no longer be the case here."
The chef, the woman with the fierce hazel eyes, extended her hand. I took it, and we shook. But as I did, I let my grip slowly tighten. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send a message. My face remained cold and stoic, but my eyes were clear.
"Don't ever try to poison me or screw me over," I said quietly, "and we won't have any problems, I will look out for you and your staff."
She laughed nervously, " So young and so scary. So, what do we call you. Boss?" she asked.
"13," I said. "And you?"
"Lily," she replied.
I nodded. "Lily. Good. You're the head chef now. Make sure your staff knows they work for me, and they work for you. Keep them in line, and we'll all get along fine."
"Yes, sir," Lily said.
Jane and I finished our food in silence. The cleanup crew finished their work and left. By the time we were done, Club Inferno was clean, organized, and ready for operation under new management.
I stood and looked around the kitchen one more time. This place had potential. Good location. Excellent staff. A chef who could actually cook. It would serve my purposes well.
I arrived back at the Runaway House as the sun was beginning to set. The building looked exactly as I'd left it, solid, secure, a sanctuary for the kids who lived here. I climbed the stairs to my unit and prepared for a shower.
That's when I saw the note on my countertop.
It was from Victoria.
Thirteen,
I am sorry to do things like this, but I need to go back home. I will always enjoy our time together and hope that you can forgive me for not saying goodbye in person.
Until next time,
Victoria
PS: You owe me a proper date since you took the skank out before me. Kisses.
I stared at the note for a long moment.
"What is this?" I said quietly. "She's leaving too?"
That didn't feel right. Victoria had been here since London. She'd helped build the Runaway House. She'd designed my unit. She'd been a constant presence, a friend, an anchor point in my life.
And now she was gone. I made a mental note: Victoria is a possible enemy is now 50% likelihood.
The fact that she'd left without saying goodbye in person, combined with her sudden departure, suggested something deeper was happening. Either she was running from something, or she was running toward something. Either way, her absence created a gap in my operational security.
I would need to investigate. But not tonight.
I took a long shower, letting the hot water wash away the blood and sweat from the operation. My mind processed the day's events with clinical precision, the infiltration, the combat, the negotiation with Lily, the acquisition of Club which will be called Inferno. Everything had gone according to my plan.
Except for Victoria.
I dried off and collapsed into bed at 12:00pm, exhaustion pulling me under almost immediately. My enhanced physiology needed rest after the adrenaline surge and the physical exertion. Sleep came fast and deep.
While Jasen slept, Miranda waited at a rendezvous location in downtown Vancouver.
A fancy car pulled up to the curb, sleek and expensive, with tinted windows that revealed nothing of the interior. The door opened, and a girl was withing view. She wore a beautiful flowing gray dress that caught the light, and her brown skin seemed to glow in the car's interior lighting. She smiled warmly as she saw Miranda.
"Miranda, come in," the girl said.
Miranda stepped inside the car. As she settled into the seat, she recognized the girl's face. It was Victoria. Her eyes narrowed.
"Why are you here?" Miranda asked. "I thought Doctor Kline was supposed to...."
"The Doctor is busy," Victoria said smoothly. "I am your contact for now. So, first, how did everything go with Subject 13?"
Miranda sighed and reached into a cold bag she'd brought with her. She pulled out a small container filled with a white, milky liquid.
"The pheromones you gave me worked on Subject 13 very well, he was easy to entice," Miranda said quietly. "And that is his sperm."
Victoria took the container with a satisfied nod. "Thank you, Miranda. And don't worry, the doctor will not ask you to seduce or sleep with anyone else in the future."
"No, it's fine," Miranda said quickly. "Let's just not talk about it again."
"Of course," Victoria said.
The Miranda spoke. "But I do have a question for you. Who are you really, and how long have you been undercover?"
Victoria smiled enigmatically. "Miranda, who I am is none of your business unless the doctor or the Illusive Man wants to tell you. As for how long I've been undercover..." She paused. "I was never undercover. I am 13's friend truly. I genuinely care about him, and I truly do not like you."
The car lifted off the ground, its anti-gravity systems engaging smoothly. As it rose above the city, Victoria continued.
"I am also interested in seeing him bring humanity to the next step in evolution," Victoria said softly. "That's what Project Ascendant is really about. Creating a better humanity."
The car flew away into the night, carrying Miranda toward the future Cerberus had planned for her.
In a different part of the city, Jane sat in her room at the Runaway House. She had her omni-tool open, a secure channel active. On the other end of the line was a man's voice.
"Yeah, Dad, I'm okay," Jane said. "I swear I won't get in over my head."
There was a pause on the other end. Then: "You better not. I didn't train you to be reckless, and she wouldn't want you to do that either."
"I know," Jane said. "I'm being careful. I promise."
"Good. Stay in touch. And Jane? If you change your mind just let me know."
"I will," Jane said.
The call ended.
Jane closed her omni-tool and stared out the window at the Vancouver skyline.