Natasha fidgeted nervously in the cheap off-the-rack black polyester skirt-suit, and uncomfortable synthetic leather pumps she had bought to comply with the dress code mandate mentioned in her interview invitation email.
The fact that it was a hot day, and her car's A/C was busted, made her even more uncomfortable.
"I could endure the deserts of Iraq, so why am I so nervous and uncomfortable?" she thought, as she drove her old, barely functioning Ford Focus sedan up to the security checkpoint of the Sirius Software compound, with massive semi-trucks rumbling both in front and behind her.
"Actually, I know why. That application made me enter my body measurements and I needed to upload a Photo ID, that's why" she thought, as she recalled the frankly invasive application form.
The semi truck in front of her rumbled forward. A security boom came down, and a wicked set of spikes sprung up behind it, forcing her to stop.
She rolled down her window, and showed the interview email on her phone to the checkpoint guard.
The guard examined the email, and then waved her through. The boom lifted, and the spikes retracted.
She drove through the checkpoint, and parked in front of a small squat concrete building, that was labeled "Temporary Office".
A blast of ice-cold air conditioning hit her as the automatic door slid open, and she stepped inside.
The main foyer was lined wall to wall with loud, whirring server racks.
Unconcealed ceiling-mounted HVAC ducts blasted cold air into the room, buffeting her hair and clothes, making her shiver.
At the far end, was a featureless black door with a hand-print lock and an intercom panel.
The name "Aaron Zakhrov, CEO" was emblazoned on the door in large white letters.
Natasha walked up to the door and buzzed the intercom. "I'm Natasha Parker. I'm here for the security guard interview," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
A dull click sounded, and the door swung open with a hiss. Natasha stepped inside, and the door closed behind her with a soft thud.
The room was a small office, with a large desk equipped with a massive computer monitor, and a single chair in front of it.
Behind the desk sat Aaron, dressed in a sleek black leather business suit, with a black shirt and tie.
He was looking at her with a cold, calculating gaze.
"Have a seat, Ms. Parker," he said, in a deep gravelly voice.
Natasha sat down in the chair, the cold air conditioning and the scent of the black leather furniture making her feel more comfortable.
"Let me get right to the point. I'm not running some affirmative action charity show.
As a Sirius Software security guard, you will need to protect the facilities you are assigned to from unauthorized access or entry, and detain or even incapacitate intruders or threats.
If you have the skills I require, you're hired. If you don't, then you're wasting my time. So are you still interested in this position knowing that you might face real bullets and might have to kill someone?" asked Aaron, looking at her with a steely gaze.
"Yes sir. I agree to those risks," replied Natasha switching into her soldier persona.
"Come with me," commanded Aaron, getting up and striding to the door.
Natasha fell into step behind him, marvelling at how much his physique had changed since she had last seen him.
He had grown tall.
She estimated that he would hit 2 meters, and his broad shoulders and movements belied a body that was lean and toned from hard training instead of steroids and supplements.
She was in great shape, and was trained in close quarters combat, but assessed that he had a significant advantage over her in both height leverage and upper-body strength.
Aaron led her out of the temporary office building and to another featureless concrete building secured with the same kind of heavy door and hand-print lock.
He unlocked the door and beckoned her inside.
Natasha entered to find a room lined with lockers and a table in the center with a disassembled handgun.
She recognized it as a 9 mm semiautomatic pistol.
"Your time starts now," said Aaron, clicking a stopwatch on his phone.
Natasha's soldier instincts kicked in, and she quickly assembled the handgun.
"25 seconds. Not bad," said Aaron clicking the stopwatch off.
He opened a locker and pulled out a sleek black leather harness that had two holsters, four magazine pouches and two knife sheaths.
"This has to be fully equipped and concealed. You will find the required placeholder gear in the changing room," he said, handing her the harness.
Natasha took the harness and walked into the changing room.
She took off her blazer and skirt, and put on the harness, adjusting it to fit.
She started to equip the placeholder gear of two unloaded 9-mm handguns with built-in LED flashlights, and two plastic training knives, marvelling at the quality of the harness.
Her blazer and skirt created visible bulges around the waist-level holsters and knife sheaths, but didn't obstruct her ability to draw the weapons.
Feeling more confident, she exited the changing room.
"That looks passable for now," said Aaron looking her up and down.
Natasha found herself averting her eyes and blushing under his gaze.
However, she quickly regained her composure when he beckoned her to another door, and opened another locker.
"These are low-velocity non-lethal rounds," said Aaron, handing her a pair of magazines. He opened the door to reveal a brightly lit corridor with a series of doors on either side.
Natasha loaded her guns and entered the corridor.
The door closed behind her with an ominous thud.
She was unsure what was expected of her, until corridor lights cut out, plunging it into darkness.
She quickly drew her handgun and activated the flashlight, illuminating the corridor.
A door opened to her left, she quickly turned and pointed her flashlight at it, revealing a cut-out of a man with a gun.
She quickly fired a shot, hitting the cut-out in the chest, causing it to fall over.
She moved down the corridor, scanning the doors with her flashlight.
Doors opened and closed at random, revealing hostile cut-outs, civilian cut-outs or even sometimes nothing at all.
After 10 minutes, the lights came back on, and the door at the end of the corridor opened, revealing Aaron standing there with a satisfied smile.
"Excellent work, Ms. Parker. You may take a break, and meet me in the office in 15 minutes," he said, as he walked away.
Panting slightly, Natasha walked back to the changing room and took off the harness.
"Still got it! I had thought I'd be more rusty after just shadowing people for Sarah and now Monica." she thought, as she greedily drank from the bottle of cold water that had been left for her.
---
Natasha re-entered the office, feeling a little self-conscious about the sweat stains on her blouse and blazer.
"This is your employment contract and NDA. Read it carefully, and sign it if you agree to the terms," said Aaron, handing her a large tablet computer and stylus.
Natasha carefully kept her expression neutral as she read the documents:
The dress code mandate specified a minimum heel height of 8 centimeters, and a BMI window so strict, it would make a 1950s airline blush.
Every detail was micromanaged: only skirt-suits were permitted — pants were outright banned — and even her nails had to be painted in a specific sequence: a white or primer base coat, two coats of regulation color, and a transparent top coat.
Hair could be long, braided, or pinned into a bun, but heaven help you if you had a pixie cut.
Tattoos were forbidden. So were flat shoes, glitter anything, and any blazer not buttoned and tailored like it came from a military parade.
The kicker? She'd need to agree to follow the dress code as part of a binding contract before any offer of employment.
The NDA was extensive, and designed to keep extremely tight control over intellectual property and social media. Employees were forbidden from unionizing, and from discussing almost anything related to Sirius Software, with severe financial and legal consequences for any breaches.
She considered pushing back that high heels and pencil skirts were impractical for a security guard, but decided against it, partly out of curiosity over Aaron's motives, and partly because she was still a soldier at heart, and had learned to follow orders without asking too many questions.
She signed the contract and NDA, and handed the tablet back to Aaron.
Aaron swiped the tablet screen and handed it back to her.
"Enter your bank account details here, for crediting your salary. You will be paid $400,000 a year, plus bonuses for any successful operations you undertake," he said.
"Six figures is a lot of money for a security guard job," Natasha thought, as she entered her bank account details.
"Now for your biometrics. Place your hand in the scanner, your right first, and then your left," said Aaron, holding out a black handprint scanner.
The scanner beeped each time Natasha placed her hand on it, and Aaron nodded in satisfaction.
"Report here tomorrow at 0800. Welcome to Sirius Software, Ms. Parker," he said, as he shook her hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Zakhrov," replied Natasha, as she left the office.
---
Natasha fell on her bed, her emotions a mess.
She had been hired by Senator Monica Goldberg to infiltrate and find dirt on Sirius Software, and the first step to that mission was already complete.
She now had access to the Sirius Software compound.
However, the way Aaron had treated her, and the way he had designed the skill assessment, made her feel more alive than she had in years.
Despite needing to move in a hot and uncomfortable skirt-suit and toe-pinching pumps, the skill assessment had resurfaced the same thrill she had felt during her deployment in Iraq, where she had been an Army Ranger.
She stood up, went to her sink and splashed water on her face.
"It's still too early. I shouldn't be overthinking this," she thought, before changing out of the skirt-suit and pumps.
She was about to curl up and fall asleep, when her phone buzzed.
With a sigh she answered the call.
"Well? What have you found out so far?" demanded Monica Goldberg over the line.
"I just got hired by Sirius Software as a security guard, Senator. I start working tomorrow," said Natasha wearily.
"That's it? You don't have anything else? I thought you were the best in the business!" scoffed Monica.
"All right, here's the more that you want:
The guy running things seems to actually be Aaron Zakhrov.
He's got hand-print biometric locks on everything, the security checkpoint has military grade retractable spike strips.
The compound walls are 20 meters high and 2 meters thick, topped with barbed wire and electric fencing.
So, unless you want to bring in the military and roll up in a tank, I suggest you let me do my job!" snapped Natasha, hanging up before Monica could respond.
The phone buzzed again, and Natasha wearily answered it.
"Now listen here you old hag!
I'm less than impressed by dumb kids who think they can play at being super-villains, just because they've got a few bucks!
You get in, find any kind of dirt you can, and give it to me.
I'll decide what to do with it.
Fail, and you'll never find a job again!
Do you understand?" screeched Monica.
"Yes, Senator. I understand," replied Natasha, her head throbbing from the fatigue and Monica's shrill voice.
"Good. And don't get any dumb ideas, or I swear to God, I'll destroy you along with him!" snarled Monica, before hanging up.
Natasha tossed her phone away and succumbed to sleep, too exhausted to think about what Monica had just threatened.
---
"Looks like we've got a little infiltrator on our hands," chuckled Aaron to himself, as he looked over Natasha's information on his computer.
One of the perks of bagging a military contract to secure their databases.
"Let's begin operation convert the infiltrator!" he growled, and dialed Harry's number.
"Harry, I'm sending you and Margaret some design specs. See if you can get them done by midnight," he said, as he sent the specs and Natasha's measurements to Harry's account.
"You're giving me and my wife less than 18 hours to turn titanium and leather into an almost fetish-wear styled skirt-suit combat uniform monstrosity.
You really are a sadistic bastard, you know that?" replied Harry petulantly over the phone.
"Coming from you, that's a compliment," said Aaron.
"Hey, Master Zakhrov? After we're done with this one, can I make another for myself?" asked Margaret coming on the line.
"Of course you can Margaret. Just don't try to sell it. That is a Sirius Software proprietary design," said Aaron.
"Of course I won't. I just adore your taste in fashion sir," replied Margaret.
"That's enough flirting with the kid, you little minx!
And don't think titanium chain-mail will protect you from my belt!" growled Harry in the background as the sharp crack of leather hitting skin sounded, and Margaret let out a squeal that was part pain, part pleasure.
"Talk to you later, boss. I need to teach my wife some manners," said Harry, coming on the line.
"Alright, I'll leave you two to it," chuckled Aaron, as he hung up.