Chapter Nine. (R18) -- The Beta Board

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2], 3, 4 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 13:28:42 02/02/04 Mon
Author: Cyanide
Subject: Chapter Nine. (R18)
In reply to: Cyanide 's message, "Acephaly." on 20:12:12 01/21/04 Wed

It chilled through her skin and settled in every vital organ; a shaft of ice drove its way down the length of her spine, rooting her to the spot. Though for her an uncommon emotion, she recognized it at once.

Fear.

She was petrified; so afraid, that the simple process of opening a door seemed impossibly difficult - the type of activity one would die attempting. What frightened her most was the certain knowledge that her fear was rational - her primitive brain screaming at her: survival lay in flight.

Behind the door: hardship, pain and despair. The door was her shield; fling it aside and she would face her own personal nightmare. For the first time in her life, she considered walking away.

Turn around. Go back up the corridor. Take the lift to the ground floor. Walk out the door, down the steps. Get in your car and go. Drive away. Never look back.

No one would stop her, not the men behind her and not the guards outside. No one. She could go; she could escape. Or, she could stay; she could walk through the door.

Salvation was an island in the Pacific Ocean, with hot white sand, crystal blue waters, and few neighbors. It was the place where recovery was possible - if not likely; the place without a memory where even Janet Helene Baldacci might forget. She might regain what was lost, be the person she imagined she could have been. She might find contentment - there she might live.

After ten years worth of blood and sweat she had earned it; after twenty-six years of pain and suffering she deserved it. She had gone as far as she wished to go. Someone else could finish it. Yes, it would take them longer, but they would succeed - eventually. It wasn't her problem; she didn't need the responsibility. She needed to go, start a new life while she still could; rejoice in doing nothing.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, a familiar gesture of concern. He had sensed her unease, was wondering at her hesitation. His touch was a source of unbearable pain - excruciating, unendurable. The warmth that bled from his hand, through her clothing and into the cool skin of her shoulder, served to remind her of how completely her past had obliterated whatever future had been possible.

No such things as happy endings.

She felt the sob as a constriction in her chest; she fought it down and reached for the door handle. Her hand shook, the act of rebellion too weak to prevent her fingers clasping around the deathly cold steel. The door swung open with barely a sound, as though it knew what was to come and had no wish to be a party to it.

She entered the room, not with assurance, but with a listless acceptance of an immutable fact - after this, there was nothing but oblivion. She knew it. She believed it.

She smiled with perfect insincerity, every muscle in rigid control. "Hello Nikita. So sorry to have kept you waiting."

The blonde did not reply, but Nikita's eyes were so full of hate, they shone.

She wondered what it was like to hate someone that much, what it was like to be so invested.

"I don't believe I introduced my assistants when last we met." She waved a hand at each of the men that had followed her into the room. "Industrious as you are, you've discovered Daniel's identity; allow me to introduce Karl Dayton. Karl, say hello to Ms Nikita Wirth."

Neither Karl nor Nikita bothered exchanging greetings.

"Now that we are all acquainted, shall we get down to business?" Janet asked in a carefully controlled voice.

"Torture or death?" Nikita asked in a bored tone, with matching expression.

The boredom was manufactured - as cultivated as Janet's own smile.

"We are foregoing the torture this time. I do intend to kill you, but not quite yet," she answered.

"Why the wait?" Nikita continued in the same bored tone.

Daniel intervened. "She's not yet come up with an elaborate, but easily escapable death trap; though she downed some very fine scotch in pursuit of it."

And had one very fine hangover this morning, she didn't add.

"I prefer vodka," Nikita stated, dropping the bored tone.

A brief flit of laughter escaped Janet's throat. "De gustibus non est diputandum - there is no disputing about tastes." She moved further into the room and took a seat on the unoccupied bed across from the one upon which Nikita sat. Sitting straight-backed upon the edge, she turned slightly towards the door so that she could observe every person in the room.

Daniel and Karl stood either side of the still open door. Daniel's eyes were twinkling with amusement; Karl looked puzzled, she shot him a questioning look.

"Escapable death trap?" Karl identified the source of his confusion.

Daniel took over again. "All the great villains - in this case that's Janet, place the hapless hero - Nikita here - in elaborate but easily escapable death traps." He paused a moment. "Usually after they have disclosed their diabolical plan to attain world domination." He winked at her.

Janet found herself distracted, no longer dwelling on what was to be; she was enjoying herself.

"You haven't told me your plan for world domination yet," Nikita obliged by pointing out.

Janet released an exaggerated sigh, getting into character. "I'm bereft of one I'm afraid - not very villainy, I know." Is villainy a word? Hmmm.

Nikita smiled; it appeared forced. Janet returned it, full wattage.

"So what now?" Nikita asked, sounding pleasant enough.

"I thought we might chat," Janet responded.

"Chat?" Nikita repeated, incredulous. "About what exactly?" Blue eyes narrowed.

"Life, hyenas, the World Series - whatever you wish." Janet really didn't care.

"I really thought the Dodgers would do it this year." Nikita stated.

She smiled warmly. "They didn't have a hope in hell."

Nikita's eyes flashed. "You'd know of course."

"What is it like to hate someone so much?" Janet surprised herself by asking.

"It burns." Nikita appeared equally surprised to have answered.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

"Why are you the way you are?" Nikita questioned.

Janet couldn't find the energy to lie. "Because I lived, Nikita. Because I was sent to the darkest of places and survived." She gave no details, because she knew Nikita had no wish to hear them. She was the enemy and Nikita needed to hate her - pity was a weakness.

"You murder people." Nikita's contempt was palpable.

Et tu, Nikita? "I play to win and will do all that is necessary to that end." She always had, and she always would.

"You torture people."

"When necessary - I take no pleasure in it."

"Why was it necessary to torture me?" Nikita kept her face impassive, but there was bitterness in her tone.

"I needed you to hate me," Janet replied, keeping her tone even.

"You said it was to discover what kind of leader I was," Nikita reminded her.

"Yes, I lied." She was calmness personified.

"You do that a lot," Nikita snapped.

"Why do you think I tortured you?" she asked, genuinely interested in what Nikita would say.

"You're a sadist," Nikita spat out.

"An awful lot of trouble for kicks." Janet paused. "Was your performance hampered by my actions?"

"No," Nikita quickly replied.

"You destroyed Red Cell."

Nikita appeared calm. "Yes."

"All by yourself?"

"With Section." Nikita looked weary.

"No one else?"

"No." Nikita was definitive.

"How very ungrateful you are." Janet smiled, showing lots of white teeth, but no warmth.

Nikita didn't reply.

"I gave Michael the information he sent you," she added.

Nikita laughed.

"You don't believe me?" she continued calmly.

"Why would I? You want to destroy Section."

"Yes, and I will. But at that time, I needed Section to survive."

Nikita looked at her as though she was certain Janet was insane. "What?"

"It's rather difficult to pin the blame on an organization that's already been destroyed."

"Blame for what?"

"The destruction of Meyer's group, Black Order, for example."

"That happened before we destroyed Red Cell."

"But after our first meeting."

Nikita blinked, hard.

She could almost see the progression of Nikita's thoughts.

"Why did you destroy them?"

"It was a convenient way of plugging leaks." Which was true, but not the whole truth. I was once Meyer's "guest"; Janet didn't add.

Nikita made the leap. "Jason."

"Yes," Janet nodded.

"You killed him." Low and deadly.

"Yes."

"After you tortured him."

"How else was I to confirm his information?"

Nikita moved quickly, but not nearly quickly enough - Daniel there in an instant. He slammed the blonde into the ground; he didn't hesitate to kick Nikita while she was down, doing so more than once. When he appeared confident that Nikita wasn't going to try anything else, he moved back to his position by the door - leaving Nikita to cough up blood on the concrete floor.

"It wasn't personal. He suffered no longer than was necessary," Janet didn't know why she bothered with such empty words; they would be of little comfort to Nikita.

Nikita didn't respond, though her breathing had returned to normal.

Janet waved a hand in Karl's direction and he immediately moved forward, picked up the blonde and deposited her back on the bed.

Nikita said nothing for a long time; then finally, speaking very softly. "You're a monster."

Janet smiled. No, Nikita - I'm not.

Not yet anyway.

Not yet...

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

[> Chapter Ten. (R18) -- Cyanide, 13:39:50 02/02/04 Mon

Hugging the ground, she crept slowly forward. At the edge of the tree line she stopped and bringing a pair of goggles to her eyes scanned the area. All seemed peaceful, looked perfectly normal; but looks were deceiving. Less than a mile before her goggled eyes lay the residence of Janet Baldacci; within its walls, Section One's Operations was being held captive.

Not for long.

Jasmine zoomed in on the western end of the property, searching for the guard she knew to be there. He was barely visible, blending almost seamlessly into the background, but she found him nevertheless.

After watching the property for the better part of two days, she was fairly certain she had located each and every one of the perimeter forces. There were no more than twenty patrolling at any given time; currently there were only fourteen, including the five guards stationed on the roof of the main house.

From all reports, Janet's security systems were no better than those of her wealthy neighbors - small army aside. The woman appeared to place more value on appearances than actual security, with the fewest number of guards working during daylight hours. That was not to imply the property was unsecured.

Far from it.

Though relatively few in number, the guards appeared to be highly disciplined, extremely well equipped, alert, and cleverly positioned. To reach the main house where Operations was being held, Section operatives would need to cross the length of two football fields of flat open ground, under the ever watchful gaze of five guards equipped with the armory of a small country. The property was secure against such attack - they had as much chance of taking it that way as elephants had of flying.

Their ability to acquire this type of target was the reason they were the most covert anti terrorist agency in the world - that, a healthy budget and freedom from obeying inconvenient laws. Today they would break at least twenty of those laws.

Having ensured her target was where he was supposed to be, she removed her goggles and keyed her mike once - receiving some static in acknowledgement. Jasmine watched the blue sky through the covering branches, searching for something she had no earthly chance of seeing.

She sat on the damp earth, staring up at the clear sky for what felt to her an eternity. What's taking so long?

A series of loud explosions came in answer. Her eyes, which had failed to sight the planes, had no difficulty detecting the dense black smoke, emanating from the roof of the main house.

She leapt to her feet, fixed her gas mask firmly over her face, pulled her goggles back over her eyes - adjusted the tracking to normal, drew her gun and raced across the grounds. No rain of bullets was forthcoming and she thanked her lucky stars, before deciding the bombs might bear a greater responsibility.

She reached the position where she'd previously sighted the western defender; at the same time she heard a smattering of gunfire from the southeast. It ended quickly, and the western defender was covering too much ground to be among the living - she ignored both. Jasmine keyed her mike once more and headed for her assigned entry point.

She reached the door at the same time Simon strolled up, minus his gas mask. "Enjoy the fireworks?" he offered with an accompanying smirk.

He appeared a touch disheveled; Jasmine decided he'd seen a little action. She removed her gas mask, but didn't bother responding. She examined the door using each setting on her goggles while Simon scanned the area, his back to her.

"All clear," she announced. "Where are the others?" she inquired while fixing a charge to the door's lock.

He shrugged non-committally. "They'll be along."

She shot an irritated look at his back, stepped to the side and detonated the explosives - blowing the door wide open.

Cassidy and Mitchell appeared, looking a little worse for wear. Mitchell handed Simon a gas mask remarking, "Think you dropped this mate."

Simon surprised her by thanking the man. Will wonders never cease? "Where are Kevin and Lore?" Jamine asked the newcomers.

"Don't know about Lore, but Kevin took one in the head," Mitchell answered, somehow managing to contain his grief. "I've got his gear," he added.

Jasmine felt a burst of anger and put it to use, tossing a gas canister through the open door. She pulled her gas mask back on and followed the canister inside. Forget about them. Operations is in here, she's alive. For now. Keep moving.

She saw movement up ahead. She fired.

So did they.

************************************************************************************************************************

Though Janet's smile didn't waver when the sound of explosions reached them, a glance in Karl's direction sent him from the room.

Nikita didn't need to force a smile. "Trouble?"

"Not at all," Janet muttered, somehow remaining calm.

"Sounded like an explosion," Nikita helpfully advised.

Janet dropped the smile. "It was a series of explosions, emanating from the roof." She looked up at the ceiling and continued, "Probably five explosions."

"Why five?"

"There were five guards on the roof. I would imagine your friends took care of the perimeter guards at the same time." Janet didn't seem too upset.

Nikita found Janet's enduring calmness irritating; even with gunfire sounding in the house, Janet didn't appear agitated.

That will change; she consoled herself. Janet hadn't even bothered to get Daniel to close the door; when Section's forces arrived, they would find it all too easy.

"Doesn't sound good. Perhaps you should surrender," she suggested in a pleasant tone.

Janet and Daniel exchanged an amused look.

Am I missing something, or are these two crazy?

"Nikita. If you had to kill one person in order to destroy me, would you have done it?" Janet asked, green eyes intense.

She considered it. "One for the thousand you would kill? Yes." Of course I would.

Janet nodded. "And if you had to kill a thousand?"

Would I? She thought perhaps she might, but she didn't feel inclined to tell Janet that. The brunette was going somewhere with this, she wasn't certain where; it was better to remain silent.

Janet smiled. "What about a million? Do you hate me that much?" Janet's eyes clung to Nikita's face.

A million? "No," she quickly replied, but she wasn't entirely certain.

Janet's smile widened. "If I hadn't intervened the first time, Section would have fallen; you were running it into the ground. Hate is a powerful tool Nikita - it gave you the strength you required."

"You are wasted on terrorism, you should have been a comedian," she replied.

Janet turned her gaze on Daniel. "Hear that? She thinks I'm funny."

"She's hardly discerning," he replied.

Janet pouted. "I have feelings you know."

Daniel laughed, "I hadn't noticed."

Nikita was puzzled by the exchange; on the surface it appeared light-hearted, but she couldn't help but think she was missing something. She felt it in her bones.

"I overestimated her," Janet was telling Daniel.

He shrugged. "It happens."

Janet nodded and turned back to face Nikita.

For the briefest of moments, Janet's deep green eyes appeared consumed with sadness - Nikita saw it, but doubted Daniel had.

Only when the beeping began did Nikita realize the gunfire had stopped.

Janet held the beeper in her hand, reading the code. The brunette sighed deeply. "Time's up."

To Janet's credit she didn't seem the least bit happy.

"Thought of something easily escapable?" Nikita asked in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.

Janet smiled wanly. "Only if you can dodge bullets." The brunette stood, pulling a gun from inside her jacket.

Nikita found her feet - if this was it, she would die standing.

The gun came up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Daniel move to block the doorway.

"I'll see you in hell," Nikita intoned - she had always wanted to say it.

Janet nodded. Her green gaze shifted, her smile fading - she tried to hold on to the edges of it, but her lips quivered with the effort. "Xin loi," * she said clearly.

Nikita followed Janet's gaze.

The blast was deafening; it bounced off the walls to assault her eardrums. Nikita watched in shocked silence as blood blossomed from an open wound in Daniel's chest. He seemed suspended in air - eyes widened in shock; then, as his legs went out from under him, he crumbled - losing his precious hold on life.

Nikita's eyes flew back to Janet.

The brunette's gaze was fixed on Daniel. The gun hung limp in her right hand, barrel pointing at the floor. Her eyes closed tightly, as though she was attempting to hide from what she had seen; a single tear traced a line down her cheek.

Nikita noticed all this as she moved forward to take the gun.

Janet's eyes snapped open; the gun coming up quickly - too quickly - Nikita was still too far away. She turned to the doorway, desperate for assistance.

No one was there.

Only then did she understand. Janet had killed him. "Why?" she asked shocked.

Had she spoken one second earlier or later, Janet would have shot her dead, but she had timed her question well; it came at the precise moment Janet was willing, and perhaps even needing, to explain. The gun lowered slightly.

"He deserved better," Janet said; her voice modulated, seemingly calm. Her face stern - unyielding - but her eyes were weak, guilt, despair, misery, and rage all vying for supremacy within them.

I have to keep her talking. "Than what?" Nikita asked, moving ever so slightly forward.

"Than what awaited him," Janet spoke entirely without inflection, her eyes unblinking.

Nikita stepped closer, if given opportunity she would be able to clasp the gun with one more step. "What awaited him?" she asked softly.

Janet's eyes grew weary and the gun rose. "The destroyer of worlds." She blinked then, and when her eyes reopened she appeared dead inside. It was with a steady hand that the brunette pulled the trigger.

Something like an egg cracked open upon Nikita's forehead, and then her head burned; her world slowed and the floor rose up to greet her.

In the harsh light of impending death, she reviewed her life, her choices, and herself. She found each flawed, found each wanting. She spent her final moments upon the earth condemned to a hell of her own creation - she relived every failure, examined every flaw.

Every second was an eternity of pain, suffering, and anguish.

Nikita had the misfortune to live another thirty.

* Xin loi - I'm sorry.

[ Post a Reply to This Message ]
[ Edit | View ]