Chapter 03 of the story. C&C appreciated as always. If you like the story,
please drop me a line. ^_^
Oh, and yes, it's nicely formatted, too.
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
Angel's Quest
_____________
(Sharp Swords, Big Girls, and Powerful Mecha)
or
(Sharp Girls, Big Mecha, and Powerful Swords)
by Jeff Yang
chapter 03 / 04.16.2000 - 04.23.2000
__________
Raina had decided to stay for a while under the care of Chuck. The man
certainly nice enough, strapping her with a job she could fare moderately well
at. He had even offered to let her stay at his house as long as she wanted,
provided that she only did it after hours when she was off-duty.
In all truthfulness, Raina's mind could best be described in a bit of analogy:
a deck of cards without the aces, or maybe a wall that was propped up with a
few loose sticks. She really was not too terribly stupid of a girl; she simply
lacked the focus and attention span to do most things that required her to be
sitting down and inactive for more than five minutes. It was a cumbersome
trait, one that manifested itself in arbitrary fits of boredom and questing for
shiny objects.
Neither manifested themselves at the moment, though. Instead, she was sitting
against the plush back wall of her dressing room, looking at the bright lights
around her full-body mirror with something between acute concentration and
utter vapidness. It wasn't easy to tell which it was.
It was her second day on the job. Her first had been yesterday where she had
been volunteered by Adara on the spot to take Chuck's offer. Chuck--who kept on
insisting that she call him Chuck instead of Charles or Mr. Bentley--had began
the orientation with a lengthy statement on the history of his establishment,
the potential audience he was hoping to attend to, and other related matters.
Raina's immensely absorbing journey into the glittering depths of a
particularly well-crinkled piece of leftover metallic building material
convinced him that he may just have to resort to another method of conveying
his intentions.
"Raina, dear?"
She looked up. "Huh?"
Chuck inhaled. It was typical in this line of work; the good ones usually had
all the intelligence of a dead squirrel. Little wonder she was working for
those mercs, now. Mercenary groups weren't entirely common, but all the ones he
saw did pack some sort of nice-looking ass just for the appeal of it. He
thought it was rather nice of them, providing something interesting to look at
before they thrashed whoever they had to thrash.
"Could you put that away and listen to me, please?" he tried again, voice
suffused with the patience for a thousand airheads.
Raina smiled brightly and did as she was told. "All right. Now what do I have
to do?"
"Well, I explained much of this already during the briefing I had with your
friends," he began, "but I suppose it bears repeating. I'd like to see you
here at third hour of noon, when you'll have some time to get ready. The club
closes during the eleventh hour of night, and once again you'll have time to
wrap things up before you go back home."
"And I go home with you for now, right?"
"Right. I think you need to get a little more education in the art of dancing.
You may think that it's a simple task, but in actuality it's quite a complex
thing. The science of seducing men is something you will learn well, Raina."
She peered curiously at him. "How would you know how to do this?" she said.
"I don't." He chuckled lightly, having expected exactly that response. "I have
a number of mistresses in my abode that will attend to your tuition."
"It sounds like you want me to be your mistress too."
This threw him off. "Oh, no, of course not," he said quickly. "I assure you, I
have no intention of dressing you up so you could make a fine addition to my
har... *associates*. None at all."
To his mild surprise (and vast relief), she smiled. "Okay," she said. "I'll
live with you, then. I'll have to tell my friends first, though. They won't be
happy if I just leave without notifying them first, breaking procedure and all
that."
"Understandable," he agreed. "Well, you have the rest of the day to do what you
want; instruction won't begin until tomorrow. I'll be expecting you on time, do
you understand?"
"Yes," she said, her smile threatening to outshine the dim glow of the
makeshift lighting overhead. "Can I go now?"
Chuck shrugged. "Sure, why not? Remember, Raina, be on time. We have a lot to
cover."
She nodded, and skipped on out, forgetting all about telling Adara and Kyla and
Meura about her plans. Instead, she chose to redirect herself to the nearest
quick-food restaurant, and with the few gold coins Chuck had given her as
advance payment, bought herself a couple cups of breaded sweets. In retrospect,
it was probably for the better that she missed the entire incident with Meura
anyways.
The second day had passed with relatively little clamor, filled with much
wandering of streets and jingling of change. At precisely three hours past
noon, Raina appeared at the front door of the Rusty Razor, a half-eaten veggie
wrap in one hand. The debris had been cleared out overnight, seemingly; the
place cleaned up and just a hint sparkly with fresh wood varnish whose scent
was conveniently masked by the tinge of smooth, scented perfume.
Chuck appeared out from behind the counter, waving in greeting. "Good
afternoon, Raina!" he said jovially. "Had a good lunch? Enough sleep?"
"Yes," she said, nodding. "So where do I go now?"
"You'll have a bit of time before we open up," he said. "So go ahead and feel
free to wander around the place for a while, get a feel for where to go in case
there's some sort of emergency--not that I expect one anytime soon, but it
can't hurt to be safe, right?"
"Oh, right!" Raina agreed. "Should I wear this now?" She help up a collection
of strings that was supposed to be counted as "clothing" for her outfit.
"If you insist. There'll be no one to see it except myself, and a few of your
co-workers."
She paused. "Co-workers?" The thought seemed strange and new to her; her
friends had always referred to themselves as "partners", which meant the same
thing. Sort of.
"Yes. I... hope you didn't think you were the only girl I hired," Chuck said,
laughing softly. "We have to have a selection, you know."
"Oh!" Raina brightened a bit. "Well, all right. Are they in back? I can go meet
them now, right?"
"Of course. In fact, that would be for the better, if you all got to know each
other. Helps morale and promotes business, if you ladies are into it."
With a final nod, Raina scurried towards the dressing rooms, the mass of
strings fluttering from one hand like a very colorful flag. Chuck watched her
go, then allowed himself a slight smirk of wicked delight.
_____________
"Where's Meura?" Adara said. It was really the only thing she could think up to
say at the moment; the blood and the glass had stunned her into a state of
numbing disbelief that all but killed her normally-biting wit.
Kyla looked frantically around a few more times. "I don't know. It was like
this when I got here--look, down the hall." She pointed to the door--or rather,
where the door used to be. It was a twisted amalgam of sharp, jutting metal
now. "Someone. Who could it be?"
"Think." Adara breathed in and out a couple times to calm down. It didn't work
very well, but she pressed on nevertheless. "Who is out to get us?"
"The guy," Kyla said, gesturing quickly to illustrate her lack of a point.
"What was his name again?"
Adara crossed her arms in thought. "Sturman, I think. He's the magistrate of
Ve--"
"I *know* that!" Kyla interrupted. "Sturman, then. Would he have some guys of
his come in and take her out?"
"He's already tried that, remember?" Adara said coyly. "I gave them the slip
once, and Rigger already said he doesn't care about us. Not that I believe him,
of course, but it *is* something to take into consideration."
"So you're saying that he simply came in here with..." Kyla glanced at the
wreckage of the medical lab. "... *something*, and killed her?"
"I don't think he killed her." Adara leaned against the wall, one hand tapping
against her chin in thought. "No, the idiot certainly seemed chivalrous enough
when I was sleeping with him, and Meura isn't the type to provoke people at any
rate. It sounds more like your typical hostage situation."
"And he wants you, I take it."
"Probably," Adara muttered, shrugging. "I don't know what the hell his problem
is, and it's not really important. Let's get Raina and we'll storm his fancy
mansion and burn it to the ground. After saving Meura, of course."
Kyla shook her head in disagreement. "No. That's not the right way to go."
"Hmm?"
"I mean, he has the advantage. If we were that stupidly overt--no offense, O
Great Leader--"
"None taken."
"--then he could do any number of things to us. We need a *plan*, and we need
it fast."
"So come up with one already."
"I'm thinking, damn it!" Kyla shouted. She turned around and seemed to want to
slam a fist against the corridor for a brief moment, before letting her hand
drop down to her side. "This will take a while. Go ahead, you don't need to be
here right now."
Adara unfolded her arms. "What's wrong with you, now?" she said.
"Just nothing. I need to think, and that means I need to be alone, without
distractions." Kyla turned around and regarded Adara calmly. "So kindly get the
hell away from me."
"If you insist. You know, for being a partner, you're terribly anti-social."
"Whatever." Kyla smiled faintly, and simply walked past Adara and out of the
hallway.
Adara watched her go, then decided to take a very long bath.
_____________
The restroom was probably the fanciest affair in the very sterile and very
utilitarian headquarters of the Angels, decked out with a marble-white tub that
was not really marble, golden faucets that were made of another similar shining
yellow material, and a line of towels that had been custom-made for each of the
four Angels, with a little green terrycloth letter "emblazoned" across the
front.
Meura had specifically requested this little formality for them, and being that
she hadn't asked for anything else--the Angels had their choice of customizing
their base when they commissioned it to be built a few years ago, and they each
got a little extra feature of their choice--they decided to let her have her
way. It wasn't as if she had asked for a heated swimming pool (Adara), a "shiny
room" (Raina), or a sophisticated computer system that would've ended up
costing more than the entire establishment altogether.
Adara yanked the "A" towel sullenly off its rack, and began the process of
filling the tub up. She quickly undressed and stepped in the now-hot water,
sliding down the wall of the tub slowly so that the water rose all the way up
to her chin.
She began thinking, thinking about many things; the previous jobs. The times
they had before. The hardships, the money, and the weapons. It all seemed so
pale now, with Raina gone for over a day, Meura kidnapped, and Kyla at her
throat again--
No, she refused to believe that.
She knew that they had been through times worse than this one, and that this
was just a minor setback. A minor setback, nothing more; Sturman proved himself
incompetent enough already, and taking Meura back--well, *rescuing* her, since
"taking back" made it sound as if she was some sort of inanimate object--would
be easy enough once Kyla decided that, yes, she had been wrong all along and
that simple assault would be enough. Of course, there was no telling when
*that* would happen, if it did; Kyla could just go ahead and execute whatever
half-assed plan she had by herself. She certainly had no qualms about doing so
before...
A splash of water echoed hollowly through the cavernous interior of the bath as
Adara moved upwards, reaching for a bar of soap that lay on the upper shelf.
She rubbed it between her hands to get the bubbles going, then began washing
herself down carefully, deliberately. Her mother always told her to be clean;
it wasn't until much later that she understood the deeper implications of that
particular phrase.
Adara smirked. She wasn't particularly clean now, anyways, in either fashion.
At least one of them could be remedied.
She took her time. Kyla was probably off sulking somewhere; she got like this
often, when the situation seemed the least unstable. Adara wasn't sure what
exactly motivated her to let Kyla join in the first place, aside from the
sudden prospect of becoming a merc group that had seemed like a good idea at
the time. "At the time" consisted of a hazy night seen mostly from the vantage
point of a hard woodboard floor, through the distorted view of a couple dozen
green bottles of a very pungent drink.
Finishing her bath at long last, Adara kneeled down to drain the tub. It was a
good thing that they still had enough funds saved up to pay for the maintenance
of headquarters (although the wrecked lab made Adara's head hurt, just thinking
about how much the supplies alone would cost to replace, let alone the door and
chairs). They would probably be relying on Raina a bit more than she'd like to
think for the next few months, at least until something more promising showed
up. Adara smirked again, this time a bit ruefully, as she replayed the phone
conversation with the ominous-type stranger the other day. Maybe he would call
back again.
Stupid thought, really. She banished it out of her head and stepped out and in
front of a mirror, wrapping the voluminous towel around herself like a robe.
Adara felt vaguely silly for looking herself like this, as if she was obsessed
over herself. Well, perhaps she was--but not to the degree where she would
begin to...
She caught herself drifting off the train of thought and quickly resumed the
task of drying herself, glad that she had zoned out sufficiently to not notice
herself staring at the mirror.
Finished, she sat back and was about to see if Kyla was finished throwing a fit
when the communications line beeped softly. There was one installed in every
room, including (in a fit of intelligence) this one. Adara made sure the towel
was high enough around her collarbone and low enough around her legs (but not
*too* low) before pushing the Receive button.
An all-too familiar and annoyingly raspy tone made its way through the speaker.
She didn't even have to look to know that the voice-only beacon was blinking.
"Hello, Adara Rynce." A brief pause. "Perhaps we can discuss the deal now, the
one I mentioned before."
Adara sighed before raising her voice to echoing-off-the-walls decibel levels.
"Look, I told you already! If you don't have the genitalia to show up and
discuss in person, then there's no deal to be made. Now go away, I have to get
dressed and blow up an expensive mansion."
There was another arbitrary ensemble of phlegm- and mucus-based sounds,
followed by a simple statement. "I'll pay you enough to be ruler of this little
place you call Taragon Square."
"If you have that much money, I don't see why you need to hire us. Not that you
have to find someone else," Adara quickly corrected, "but it seems too damn
suspicious to me."
"If it would satisfy your little need for security, I would send an emissary of
mine to meet you."
Adara nodded, despite the fact that a voice-only line precluded any possibility
of the gesture being transmitted. "Well, now, that makes things much easier.
I'll get to you later. There's more pressing issues at hand."
"More important than money, Adara?"
"Well... yes. I know, it's hard to believe, but I have a sense of morality.
Don't go shrieking in horror, now."
The voice snorted. "I will remember that." And the routine repeated: RESOLVING
to CONNECTION CLOSED.
Satisfied, Adara readjusted the towel and slipped on a pair of greenish slippers
before striding out the room, the door sliding shut behind her. Kyla would
probably be in their war room, doing whatever it was intelligence specialists
did to prepare. She made her way towards the hallway and pressed a button on
the room communications line.
"Kyla? You in there?" she called out into the two-way speaker. "I'm heading out
right now, and I suggest you follow me."
There was no response. Adara really wasn't surprised; she could afford to leave
Kyla out of this one, if necessary.
Of course, the only problem now was that she didn't know where Kyla was, and
that really could mean a number of things.
_____________
The first thing she remembered seeing was something vaguely bluish floating in
front of her eyes. Meura moaned softly, feeling her head scream in protest as
she attempted to stand on her feet and failed miserably. Opting to remain on
the floor for now, she rubbed her eyes, eyesight adjusting to the darkness
around.
She was in a cell of some sort. Meura brushed a few strands of hair out of her
face and continued straining her eyes, eventually making out the faint outline
of a door. The room was small and confining, and Meura quickly stumbled onto
her feet, leaning against a wall for support. After a wave of dizziness passed,
she looked up once more and fumbled her way to the door.
The surface was smooth and cool beneath her fingers; it was no simple jail or
dungeon cell, but a complex holding facility, judging by what little she could
discern. The attacker must have knocked her unconscious and transported her
here. She was quite familiar with the way this worked; there would probably be
a ransom notice sent off to Angel's Headquarters within a few days, as she was
waited on by a faceless servant in the meantime.
Meura took a deep breath and tried to think. The first thought to come to her
mind was: if this was a small cell, where is the air coming from?
She looked up, despite the room being in what was essentially pitch darkness,
and felt the slight breeze of a ventilation fan coming from above, cooling her
shoulder. It took her another moment to realize she was completely unclothed.
Seething, she felt the first sharp pinches of a sob coming to her throat, and
choked it down forcefully. She had decided long ago to not be so sentimental
and so utterly emotional, and now was the worst time to back up on that
decision. Instead, she reached out with both arms to see if the room was wide
enough for her to climb up the walls. She had seen Adara and Kyla do the same
trick before: when confined in a small cell, they simply planted their hands
and feet on the wall and shimmied their way up. It came as an expected and
painful realization to her that she hadn't kept up with her own regimen of
exercise to be able to pull off such a feat.
Meura rested her forehead against one of the walls, finding the surface to be
spongy and padded. She wished this was all over, and that she had never joined
the Angels to begin with.
The decision had been made a long time ago. Meura was fifteen, attending the
medical school in Brigham, Velaiya. She was an excellent student, and had been
recommended for further education in the much-more medically oriented campus of
Arbordale. Her parents were thrilled, naturally. She could be a great doctor!
And most of all, she could make enough money to place them all in the good life
for... well, the rest of their lives!
Medical technology was something of a rarity in Lex; despite the abundance of
people willing to let themselves get hurt in various fashions, there seemed to
be very few who had the tenacity and determination to learn exactly how to
patch them up. Meura certainly had the talent, and it was an extremely simple,
if not absolutely obvious, question whether or not she wanted to attend
Arbordale.
They had the regular family dinner on the seventh day, and Meura had asked to
be excused early so she could attend to her readings. It was nearing the end of
the term, and the final tests were being administered to see who would be
doctors and who would be delinquents.
"Meura," her father said. "There's been something of extreme importance which
we--your mother and I, that is--wanted to ask you."
"Yes?" Meura paused, tremulous.
Her mother smiled. "You have been extremely studious, Meura, and we are quite
proud of you. We were hoping to send you to Arbordale so you could further your
education before becoming a full-fledged officer. Would that be all right with
you?"
"Of... of course!" Meura said quickly. "I do not see why you would have to ask
me this--"
Her father frowned briefly. "I do not believe in forcing anyone to do anything,
Meura. Remember, life is an exercise in free will. We wish the best for you,
but we will not force it upon you."
She had returned to her room, elated and so excited that sleep refused to come.
Long after her parents had turned out the lights, she remained in her bed,
squirming beneath the sheets. It all seemed so *unreal*, so new to her; her,
Meura Vance, a famous doctor!
The sounds came from outside her window, loud and irregular. Unconsciously,
Meura slid a bit further beneath the sheets. They had been coming for a while,
now; her parents told her that it was just troublemakers wandering around, but
they frightened her nevertheless. It had been like this for almost two weeks
now, with each night punctuated by the brief reports of heavy weaponry
clashing.
This time, though, the sounds of combat didn't fade away down the street.
Instead, they began getting louder and more frequent, until she could see the
sparks flying off in her front yard. Meura opened the window a little bit, and
peered over the edge. There were a few figures there; two of them were dressed
in strange bodysuits with flaring wings and carrying massive swords that should
have been impossible to wield by their appearance. The rest were garbed in
black outfits that made them nearly-impossible to discern in the night, each
wielding a substantially-smaller weapon as well.
As she watched, the pair carrying the massive weapons engaged the four in
battle. Meura watched the fight rage on for a few minutes--the pair wielding
the massive swords were surprisingly quick--before deciding to call the law
enforcement. She made her way downstairs quietly and pressed a button on the
communications line.
The display beeped pleasantly and displayed a "CONNECTING". It was late at
night, and there were perhaps one or two officers working the shift, and
*those* officers were most likely outside eating a snack instead of paying
attention to their desk as they should be. A minute of futile waiting passed,
and Meura, now not so much frightened as a bit incensed, strode over to the
door and opened it.
They were still fighting, although the ones dressed in black seemed to be
faltering now; two of them lay on the ground, motionless. Meura quietly stepped
forward so as to not attract attention, to see if she could help the man. It
was then that she discovered that it was not two people, as she had initially
judged from her skewed perspective on the patio, but one unfortunate man who
was cleaved cleanly in two at the waist. His expression of shock and pain would
linger in Meura's mind for years.
She screamed incoherently, her mind utterly blanking out. She remembered seeing
the organs on the grass, and instinctively labeling them...
One of the black-clad men noticed, and quickly darted over to her side. In an
instant, Meura's scream was interrupted as he clamped his hand over her mouth.
A knee to her stomach sent her down onto her knees, writhing in pain, and he
pressed the blade of his knife against her throat. The two girls wielding the
massive swords hesitated, as the remaining men congregated around their
hostage.
"Back off, Angels!" the man with the knife screamed. Through the dull haze of
pain, Meura could see them talking to each other calmly, as if she didn't even
exist. She tried to move, but her limbs wouldn't respond.
The Angels apparently decided not to listen to the command, and one of them
dashed forward, the sword held in a way so that it trailed behind her like a
tail. The man holding the knife blinked in surprise--was she *stupid*?--and
pressed down. Meura felt the cold edge of the knife press into her throat, the
skin breaking--
Then the pressure was abruptly gone. Meura opened her eyes, and saw that the
man was gone, and the last two were fleeing down the street away from her. She
sat up, wincing at the jostling in her stomach, and glanced around. Behind her
was one of the girls, picking up her sword and cleaning it off mildly. The
remains--or what remained of them--of her captor were strewn across her front
yard.
"Sorry about that," the girl said, strapping the weapon across her back in a
way so that it was at least feasible to walk around with it. "You all right?"
Meura gazed in a mixture of wonder and fear at her benefactor. "Um, I think I
am. But--the men! Why did you kill them?" she demanded, anger beginning to well
up once more.
"It was a job." The girl shrugged, and Meura saw the look on her face for the
first time: utter indifference. She stood, and looked at the bodies once more.
"Of course, you realize that we have you now, right?" the girl continued.
Meura glanced up. "What?"
"This was a private contract, so it was supposed to remain quiet. Too bad you
decided to waltz on out and take a look, huh?"
"This is my home!" Meura said. "I have every right to see what people are doing
on my front yard, especially if it is something as criminal as killing people!"
The girl grinned lopsidedly, loosening the strap on her sword and lifting it
easily in front of her so that it came to a rest level with Meura's stomach.
"I can kill you too, you know."
Meura remained silent.
"Right, I thought not! I'm just kidding." The girl secured her sword once more
and extended a hand. "My name's Adara, and my partner is currently finishing
off the rest of the guys we were sent to take care of. Nice meeting you. Who're
you?"
"M-meura," she said, slowly, so as to not incite the Adara's anger.
Adara, though, didn't really seem perturbed in any fashion; in fact, she began
stretching her arms out, yawning. "Meura, hm? Nice night, isn't it?" she said,
as if she always made conversation past the twelfth hour of night with two
bodies cooling around her feet.
"What do you want of me?" Meura said flatly.
"Oh, I'm just passing the time until Kyla returns. I thought it'd comfort you
if I talked instead of acting like a cold, aloof killer, which I really am
not."
"And you expect me to believe this?" she said, gesturing to the bodies.
"Hey, I'm just saying," Adara replied, crossing her arms. "Believe what you
want, but you're not going to ever see your friends or family again, most
likely, so try and cherish the last moments you stand in front of your house,
all right?"
Meura began crying.
A few months later, she told herself she would never do it again. It was an act
for small children, and she was no longer a child; she was an Angel now, and
even though she had managed to convince Adara and Kyla to stop killing (their
assassination contracts were rare, since neither liked the prospect, but it was
necessary at times because there simply wasn't anything else), she felt
terrible for leaving her parents without so much as a goodbye letter, and for
abandoning her friends.
Most of all, she felt that her talent was going to waste--well, not her
*talent*, since she really didn't consider herself good at what she did, but
her skills. After a number of half-hearted attempts, Kyla finally took her
aside one night to have a talk.
"Meura."
She looked up from her spot in the lab where she was unpacking her supplies and
arranging the bottles. "Yes?" she said, trying to sound cold. Kyla was the girl
she disliked, being that she seemed to be everything Adara claimed she wasn't.
Deciding not to mince words, Kyla simply reached out and slapped Meura across
the face, hard enough to leave a mark.
"Do your *job*, Meura." She didn't seem happy with doing that, but Meura was
already nursing her face resentfully, so Kyla decided to press on. "We're not
here so you can leech off of us. You have your fair share as well, and since
you're a completely incompetent fighter, the least you can do is practice what
you *are* good at on those who are going out and doing the grunt work."
Kyla left, and instead of crying, as she had done so often before, Meura
decided to listen to her.
It wasn't doing her any good now, though. She could only hope that her friends
would come through for her as she had for them so many times in the past.
Exhausted, Meura leaned against the back wall of the cell and slowly slid down
onto the floor.
_____________
The night had dwindled down progressively as time wore on. Initially loud and
boisterous, the atmosphere became muted as the less-refined men filtered out,
looking for a bar that would cater to their more important need: intoxicating
drink. The ones that remained were, for the most part, silently appreciating
the half dozen or so waitresses lounging around the room in various states of
undress in addition to whoever happened to be on stage at the time, and even
they began filing out slowly once it began getting late.
Raina, seeing that her shift was done for the night, headed to her dressing
room to change, to find that two of her "co-workers" were standing in front of
her room, chatting. Being a well-mannered girl, Raina decided not to interrupt
them, so she leaned against the wall and waited for them to finish.
She knew one of the girls who was there, the somewhat-short one with silvery
hair and grayish eyes that she found particularly pretty. Her name was Lindsay,
or something, and Chuck had told her that she was one of the "shy ones".
Perhaps Raina could help her out a little, get her relaxed enough to perform?
It turned out that Lindsay didn't want to relax at all, and was soon met with a
round of negativity that sent her off-stage. Raina felt bad, but there wasn't
anything she could do at the time, so she took her turn on stage (receiving
quite a rise from the audience) and went back to see if she was all right.
Lindsay was huddled against the back wall, arms about her head as if she was
shielding herself from an unseen assailant. Raina carefully kneeled down and
placed a hand on Lindsay's arm, shaking her gently. "Lindsay? Is something
wrong?" she said.
"N-no," she mumbled, voice muffled. "Just leave me alone."
Raina shook her head. "Are you hurt?"
"No. Just ashamed."
"Ashamed?" Raina said. "Is it because you didn't want to do it, out there?"
Lindsay nodded.
"I see," Raina said. "Well, please don't feel bad. If you don't want to dance
in front of all those men, it's all right. Chuck's a really nice guy; he'll
understand and you'll get a second chance."
The girl seemed relieved by that, and stood up, smiling and wiping her eyes.
"Thank you, Raina," she said.
"Oh, of course! I just hope you're happy," Raina said, offering her a smile.
Lindsay did seem a great deal happier now, talking to some other girl who Raina
didn't know yet. The two noticed her after a few more seconds, and quickly
moved aside so Raina could enter her room.
"Sorry," Lindsay said, smiling sheepishly.
Raina nodded--she was a bit tired, and speaking seemed to be too much of an
effort at the point--and closed the door behind her.
She flicked on a few of the lights so that the room was dimly-lit, and began
changing her clothes. The costume Chuck had given her wasn't *uncomfortable* so
much as it was cold, and despite her rather mild-mannered protests, Chuck
hadn't allowed her to wear a jacket or any other such thing in between turns.
Raina sneezed. Maybe she was getting a cold. The room had a cooling ventilation
system, as well...
She slipped on a comfortable sweater and jeans, and made sure everything else
was in order before switching the lights off and going back outside. Lindsay
and the other girl were already gone, presumably to their rooms as well. Raina
suddenly wanted to go home and see if the others were fine; she missed them
dreadfully, even though it had only been two days. She also remembered that she
was supposed to tell Adara about leaving for Chuck's house, but there wasn't
anything she could do about it now, seeing as how she was supposed to go to
Chuck's house after he was done sorting out the records for the day.
The man himself oozed out of his office, garbed in a simple pair of trousers
and a white shirt. He smiled at Raina and began digging through his pockets for
something as he approached her.
"Did you have a nice night?" he asked, finally producing a ring of keys in his
hand.
Raina shrugged. "I was all right, I guess. I think Lindsay is a little better
now; she was talking to someone else afterwards and she looked happy."
"Good, good. Now if you could make her dance, I'd be very proud of you, Raina."
He sidled up besides her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Raina didn't
protest as he led the two of them through the empty club and out the door into
the parking lot. Chuck began riffling through the keys as they approached a
small coach that was a gleaming black beneath the single floodlight overhead.
Raina paused. "You have your own coach?" she said.
"Well, yes." Chuck slipped one of the keys into the side and pulled, opening
the door in a smooth hiss of motion. "Should I not have one?"
"It's just that they're really expensive, from what I've heard," Raina said.
"I mean, I guess you're very wealthy, but I didn't expect--"
He laughed again. "Raina, there are a lot of things which you don't know
about life. If you'd like, I could show you--and I promise you that you won't
regret it if you do."
"I guess you could." Raina peered around to see if anyone else was there in the
lot. "Can I get in?"
"Of course." He gestured grandly at the interior of the coach. "You first."
Raina stepped inside the coach. It was like nothing she'd ever been in before;
the public transportation coaches of Velaiya were spartan affairs that often
had little more than stained foam seating and perhaps a cupholder at best.
Chuck's coach was completely lined with a soft fuzzy red material on the
inside, accentuated by black seats trimmed with golden lining. There were also
windows for each of the doors and the back seat, and black curtains neatly
shrouded over them so that what was done inside remained private.
Chuck stepped in to the driver's side of the coach, and shut the door behind
him. "Do you like it?" he said.
"Oh, very much!" Raina gushed. This really *was* exciting; Adara would be so
pleased if she saw this.
Chuck nodded, and started the coach. The vehicle began to rumble smoothly, and
soon they were out of the lot and onto the open streets of Taragon.
Raina didn't remember the ride to Chuck's home very much; what she did remember
was looking at all the little fringes on the curtains and peering out the
window and seeing the street zoom by beneath her. Chuck didn't seem perturbed
by her actions, either; instead, he continued to drive calmly, letting her do
what she wanted, ready for any questions that she asked. There were no
questions; whatever she was doing back there must have been tremendously
absorbing--well, for her, at any rate. He had made sure to remove all sorts of
metallic objects before tonight, just in case.
They pulled up to a quiet home in an area of Taragon that Raina wasn't familiar
with, and Chuck parked the coach inside the garage before cutting the engine.
He quickly darted outside the vehicle and made sure to open Raina's door,
eliciting a giggle from her in the process. Planting on his best abashed smile,
he took her by the hand and led her into the house.
"It may seem small," he said, "but I find it a lot cozier than a big estate
with dozens of rooms I know I'll never use."
Raina nodded in agreement, and began to take in her surroundings. "Do you live
alone?" she said.
"Well... yes and no," Chuck said. He began walking again; they had come in
through one of the back entrances, and were now making their way across a small
expanse of tiled floor so clean that they could see the reflection of their
faces superimposed onto that of the ceiling's. "I have a few live-in maids who
also act as tutors for my newer, more inexperienced employees. However, they
are strictly business relations, and the most intimate we ever get is having
lunch over at one of the restaurants in Nicieza."
"Nicieza?"
"Nicieza Terrace," Chuck explained. "Have you ever been there? It's a fine
place, especially considering the reputation Taragon has in general. Still,
Nicieza would be someplace you may enjoy. Would you like to come with me
sometime for dinner?"
Raina was beginning to feel overwhelmed. She had talked with Adara a number of
times, and Adara always mentioned something about "being hit on". It wasn't a
phrase that she had been familiar with, and Adara's glib explanation had left
her even more confused in the end. She was beginning to get a hint of what
Adara meant, though; Chuck was coming on to her strongly, and just a bit so
that she was stifled.
But he was her boss, and Raina really didn't want to know what would happen if
he got mad at her. She remembered stories about Meura and that wasn't the sort
of thing she wanted to go through.
"I guess so," she finally said, her smile fading.
Chuck noticed this--it was hard *not* to notice, given that she smiled almost
constantly. "Am I making you uncomfortable?" he said, genuinely concerned.
Raina shook her head quickly. "No! No, I'm just tired." Her smile regained a
hint of its former placidness. "I'd like to go to sleep now."
"Yes, all right. I understand." Chuck began walking up a flight of carpeted
stairs, Raina trailing behind him. He carefully opened the door to one of the
rooms on the second floor, and stepped away slightly. "I had this room made for
you, Raina. I hope you like it."
Raina stepped inside and flopped over the bed. "Thanks, Chuck," she said. "Good
night." She rolled over and was burying herself in the covers when Chuck
cleared his throat carefully.
"There's one quick request I have to make of you, Raina," he said. The tone of
his voice was cold, now.
She stopped her endeavors. "Huh? What is it?"
"Would you dance for me, Raina?" he said calmly.
"Dance?" she said. "Now? But... you said I could go to sleep."
Chuck smiled. "Now, now, Raina. Haven't your friends told you to be a good
girl, especially when you're their only way out of poverty?" He wagged his
finger at her as if reprimanding a small child. "Be nice, and listen to your
employer making a request of you regarding something you already have decided
to do on a daily basis."
Raina glanced up sharply from the bed. "You're making me do this unfairly! I
won't do it!" she protested.
"Then you can return to your friends tomorrow."
He saw the look of fear in her eyes, and allowed himself a smile of
satisfaction. Gently, he made his way closer to her and crossed his arms,
impassive. "I'm waiting."
It took the better part of a minute, but Raina slowly got up from bed, and
began to remove her sweater, pulling it over her head and folding it neatly on
the bed. Then she began to do the same with her jeans. Oddly enough, she began
smiling as she did it. Adara always told her to smile; it made her happy, and
that was always for the better of everyone.
Chuck Bentley, still smiling, pulled a chair for himself and sat down, clasping
his hands and letting himself enjoy the show.
_____________
Angel's Quest, its characters, its settings, and all other concepts are
copyright Jeff Yang 2000. Thanks go to Alicia Ashby for her help in editing the
story.
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
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bellreisa
homepage http://bellreisa.cjb.net
writings http://kaidese.50g.com
current project http://angelsquest.cjb.net
"How can I let you know I'm more
than the dress and the voice?"
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