Writing Update: 30-05-25

Change: +116

Year to Date: 94,102

Okay, I wrote a lot more than 116 words this week. But along with the writing, there was a lot of editing, and trimming away unsuccessful earlier attempts. So, probably about five thousand of new content, and nearly as much in deleted old content.

Either way, I thought I'd have the next chapter ready to post in its final draft this week, but it hasn't quite worked out that way. This current chapter is proving a little more difficult than ancticipated, against a backdrop of real-life stuff going on. Some of the chapter content is probably hewing a bit closer to home than usual, and that might be a factor, too. In any case, it's pretty much doubled in size since the sneak peek a week ago. And I reckon it'll be ready to share early next week. I apologize for the delay.

Well, as proof that I've been writing, here a 1,500 word clip of some of the cleaned-up content. And after I've posted this, I'll share some recent work by Fraylim, as promised.

***

“Just like old days. A job, right up your alley.” Bound and gagged at that table, there really hadn’t been that much for me to do but sit there and listen. Darius’s holographic projection circled, knelt opposite me. “You were always her favorite, you know that? Dmytro, the muscle. I was the eyes. Sophya, the brains. Emma, the shield.” As he mentioned each one, a picture of them appeared on a screen behind. Dmytro was just a live feed, standing impassively behind me. But there was Sophya, looking older, black hair in a tight braid now reaching to her waist, streaked with white, presumably dyed. In the background, some anonymous beach, and a fruity cocktail in her hand. Meanwhile, Emma looked—like Emma—virtually unchanged except for a few fine creases at the corner of her eyes, maybe a few extra kilos at her hips; but also, in hand, two children, a boy about ten, a girl a few years young. Married, to judge by the ring at her finger. Grocery store behind, bag balanced on one hip as she opened the door of a bulky, black SUV, and she was looking over her shoulder, directly up at the camera taking the picture, lips clearly forming a silent ‘fuck you’.

            Meanwhile, Darius continued: “But you—Luke, you were… nothing. A shadow, shapeless, taking whatever form she required. Most often, the knife in the dark.”

             I rolled my eyes.

            “You were such a sycophantic little prick. You had a real knack for getting close to people. Us; they all loved you, Emma, Sophya—even Dmytro.” He nodded, hard smile at the man standing behind me. “But not me. No. I saw right through your little act. Your self-serving altruism. None of the children ever collected as many favors as you did, Luke, we all fucking owed you, didn’t we?

            “But you showed me, all of us, didn’t you, why she liked you so much. There was no one better at earning a target’s trust. Get close, earn their trust. And then betray them.”

            I met his gaze levelly.

            “Like you did with that high school bitch, and her father.” His projection smiled. “Remind me, sometime, to show you what’s happened to Muna.” He reached out, and I experienced his hand as a tingling warmth across my breasts and a moment later, at my crotch as he swept digital fingers along my thigh and through my abbreviated skirt. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but couldn’t help but squirm in discomfort. Behind me, Darius rumbled uneasily.

            Darius laughed. “And Dr. Khalid too, of course. Maybe you wouldn’t be here, if it hadn’t been for that man’s research.”

            He straightened, returned and stood behind the seat at the opposite end of the table. “But not now. Not today. No. What I want to know is whether you’re still the man I knew. He grinned, eyes raking across my tits, and I bridled under his digital stare.

            “Three targets. Get close, earn their trust. With each, you expand my reach. As my reach expands, so too does my influence. So much remains beyond my eyes. Your workplace, for instance. And that mysterious clinic that enacted these marvelous changes in you.”

            A sharp intake of breath: Dmytro.

            Darius smiled, looking beyond me. His eyes softened, there was—briefly—something almost caring there. “Yes,” he nodded.

            Then his attention returned to me, eyes hard and glittering. “Do this for me, Luke, and I will see further—far enough, to grant you your heart’s desire.” A smile, cold and thin, flickered across the projection “Whatever that may be.”

            I grunted and squirmed in bondage.

            “Or you leave here and never return. You stop being a person of interest to me. My remaining debt to you, I repay in some other fashion.” He grinned, unpleasantly. “I can arrange a final surgery for you, if you like. Or perhaps a new job more in line with your appearance.” His projection settled in the chair opposite. He crossed his legs, ankle to knee, and swept illusionary dust from his shoulder. “So, what do you say, Luke? Will you help me?”

            And it was tempting, so goddamn tempting to test these bonds holding me tight. See if I could snap these chains—the delicate steel twine holding my hands behind my back, designed to restrain a woman. Then what? Take on those two women, over by the sofa; and then my old friend, standing silently behind me. And then—what? Automated security systems, probably some more AI bullshit ready to lock down the room, fill it with gas, flare all those fucking screens so bright they left me blind, blare out deafening sound, and summon reinforcements.

            But fuck Darius and fuck this nonsense. I could still say ‘no’ to his games, race for the door I could dimly make out at the far end of the room, maybe find the man for real. Face-to-face negotiations would go a hell of a lot differently than this hologram bullshit, and me wrapped up tight like some pervert’s fetish bondage model.

            I heard Dmytro shift uneasily behind me. I allowed the silence to draw out. Darius sat and waited. At first, a small smile grew at the corner of his mouth. Then, it twitched with impatience. The entire room grew dark, except for the single spotlight over our table.

            Just one more bastard who wanted to manipulate me. First Katherine. Then Julia. Further back, Sakura. But then, I hadn’t exactly been free in the interim, either. Controlled by memories of the past, or by the economics of the present. First Tahir, then our little startup; Neopharm and the constant striving for… what? Shit I didn’t value, need or want, but took fleeting joy in accumulating.

             A terrible yearning felt as a profound pain deep within seized me, I felt like I might crack in two and the momentary intensity left me trembling. To be—free, of all this, of everyone and everything; not to start over or escape these bonds and this room so much as somehow check out of the whole sordid, sullied system and simply exist as myself in some place that couldn’t exist where I might find some iota of happiness.

            Darius’s thin smile grew increasingly brittle.

            I thought of Julia. I thought of Dmytro standing behind me and I thought of Tom. And most unexpectedly, I remembered the girls, Mel and Emma and Willow: we were supposed to go shopping tomorrow.

            And I laughed, or as close to a laugh as I could manage with a ball gag between my lips.

            I gave a single, curt nod.

            Darius threw back his head and whooped with joy. “Weave a circle round him thrice,” he cried out to the ceiling. “And close your eyes with holy dread.” His image flickered. Then he stood next to me. “For he on honey-dew hath fed / and drunk the milk of Paradise.” His projection hopped onto the corner of the table, and he looked down at me, eyes burning with fervent passion. He rubbed his hands together.

            Almost as quickly as he’d erupted into poetry, Darius was once again serious and calm. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve got an easy target for you, your first one. Let’s think of it as a test run, yeah? See if you’ve still got it. There’s a club on the other side of the city. Tartarus. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Popular with girls like you.” He grinned; images flickered to life on screens behind me, crop top and pleated skirt, or a tight slinky dress, sparkly and short, I tried on at the store last week. “Big place, one of the biggest in town. Lots of VIPs, too, celebrities, and… how to put this? Questionable dealings in back rooms.

            “Unfortunately, I remain locked out of their security systems. But there is a boy,” Darius said, holographic eyes bright. “An easy target, I should think, for a girl like Cindy.” Those pictures of Cindy flickered, flipped and now cast the image of a young man. He appeared to be barely into his twenties, skinny, lanky hair, the kind of kid who spent far too many hours bathed in the pale glow of computer screens. His jeans were baggy, and his t-shirt had a faded picture of some anime girl on it.

            “He’s taken over the club’s AI and consequently, their entire security system. And all I need you to do is get close to him.” Darius smiled. “Close enough to insert one of these—” and here, a holographic projection popped up in the middle of the table, a small, flickering rendition of a security key—“into his unsecured laptop.”

            The rotating image over the table was joined by a separate image of a laptop and then a tablet. In each, the security key slid into the device’s access port. A few seconds later, a red light on the key flickered green.

            “A few seconds is all you need,” Darius said.

            I felt sweat bead at the back of my neck.

            “You can find him at Tartarus,” he said. “Usually on Friday and Saturday evenings.”

            I studied the image, casting it to memory,

            “The kid’s name is Jonas.”

***

Have a great week!