Informant
The streets around me feel almost foreign. It’s been so long since I’ve been in Midas. Underneath me, my lovely silver motorcycle, that I’ve taken the pleasure of nicknaming Sylvia, purrs like a kitten. For once obeying all of the traffic laws (besides the helmet one) I’m riding at a slow pace and just taking in the surroundings.
No city is quite like Midas. I’ve been to a lot of cities in the time I’ve been gone, but none of them seem quite the same. I’m not sure if it’s the way the air smells, the gorgeous view of the stars this late at night, or simply the feeling given to it by the unique community that inhabits it, but it doesn’t feel like any other place in the whole world. Well, I can’t attest to it not feeling like any other place in the world as my cross country trip was just that—cross country—but I can’t believe that a place like Midas would exist in France.
At a red light I reach down and pop the ear buds back into their places, but my radio still doesn’t detect anything actually happening. I went through all the trouble to have her modified with a few little features, but being able to listen in to police radio has rarely been fruitful.
It sounded a lot better at the time, and the price of trancing a hot mechanic senseless was definitely within my range.
Managing to stay under the radar has been easy, it’s harder to be noticed than it is to avoid notice, but that’s the case anywhere. In a place like Midas with a legacy of wannabe heroes ever since the Blue Fox it takes more than just drive to be looked at twice.
Why I didn’t just choose to remain in Coredelia and be the lone heroine there I have no idea, but there was something a lot more thrilling about taking to city life.
Turning down a darker road, I sigh at the familiar sight of a poorer neighborhood of Midas. It always makes me sad when a part of a gorgeous place is left to rot and decay. I remember that this neighborhood wasn’t like this when I first came to Midas. I used to get ice cream in that shop over there, and before it had its windows shattered by gangs, I used to look for bargains in that pawn shop.
After the windows were broken, the owner stopped being so cheery. He started being more afraid and less vibrant. It really wasn’t that I blamed him so much as I just couldn’t stand to feel that pain in his eyes. I was a weaker woman then. If that happened again . . .
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a neighborhood like this, huh?” A voice from the corner of my ear catches my attention, and I swerve Sylvia to make a hard left. “Don’t look like you belong.”
A man’s voice should never be speaking like that, not this late in the night especially. I’ve never once heard words like that said sweetly. Whoever he’s talking to doesn’t respond and I have to try and move closer without drawing attention to myself. Not yet.
I drive right past the turn that would take me towards the voice, and then turn around to face the intersection before killing the engine. “Come on cutie, aren’t you gonna say something? You’re carrying some pretty heavy things there, huh? Maybe you need some help from a big, strong man . . .” Another voice, but the same piggish tone, and it’s still the voice of a man.
My hands clench on the grips, and I can’t help but frown. If this woman is able to hold her own, I don’t want to stop her from doing it. If she can’t, I’m right here to save the day on my shining silver stallion.
“We’re askin’ real nicely here, ya know? We just wanna be all . . . helpful.” Another voice. Three against one are unfair odds, but I’ve done it before. I feel more and more uncomfortable standing back, so I start her back up again, and start to slowly turn down towards the voices.
“Oh great, you three went and got us some attention . . .” A woman’s voice, but it’s not the voice of the woman being harassed. This woman sounds like she has at most a third grade education and most of it was music appreciation classes centered around rap.
I rev the engine, and flash the light onto the only figures I can see. Three of them just look like your standard muggers, too much upper body strength and not enough sense. Two blondes and a brunette. The woman . . . is far prettier than her voice would sound. Long bleach blonde hair is anything but attractive. Her t-shirt looks like it was a reject from some post apocalyptic world. Her shorts are too short, and I can see the pockets hanging down.
But there’s some sort of beauty in her eyes. There’s some spark of passion that makes her so attractive, so delightful . . . I don’t know how to describe it. There’s some force, some drive inside of her that transcends her physical form, not that it would be difficult.
Her body underneath those rejected-from-another-time-clothes I’m sure she’s gorgeous with curves like that and a bust like that. “Really, please, just leave me alone . . .” It’s hard to see the girl who just said that, but her voice sounds eloquent. Her words sound carefully chosen, and hesitantly uttered.
I’m sure that she’s not dressed like a prostitute, but at the same time, she’s the woman I’m here to save. Her mind and body will sadly need to be left intact. “I think, that she just said to leave her alone?”
“Yeah, but I totally don’t think any of us gave a damn.” The men step forward, and I just smirk, jumping off of Sylvia. The headlight is just enough to fight by, and just enough light to help my pretty pendant. I’m so glad I have this thing, without it I really don’t think that I’d still be breathing.
Every time my heart starts to beat just a little too hard . . .
“Well, lucky for her, I do. So, since it’s been awhile, I think I’ll need to take the three of you at once for practice. Or do you think you big strong men can’t take a lithe little thing like me?” They all frown, and I just grin.
They surround me. Good, that’s just what I wanted and just what I expected. Reaching down to my belt, I pull a small vial out but keep it inside of a closed fist. “Just because you’re wearin’ that outfit and have one of those stupid masks doesn’t mean you can do a thing. Just a woman, probably don’t even have a damned power to her name. Too many of those powerless freaklettes these days, all wind up hurt . . .”
“Well don’t worry . . . I won’t let any of you freaklettes get hurt.” Grinning, I dodge a punch, and let the light shine off of one of the rings of my gloves blind another before their fist can fly at me. The third tries for a kick, and I launch myself into the air off of one foot, dropping the vial down underneath me.
The vial shatters, and a bright gray mist expands very, very quickly. With how bright it is, all of them wince back, but I’m already closing my eyes before it gets too bad. Before I hit the ground from my flip, I’ve slid the clip on sunglasses over my mask.
“It’s so bright, you can just feel it beaming right into your minds, can’t you? Right through those wincing eyes, right into your stubborn brains . . .” A sweep there, a shove at the back of one of them still trying to blindly punch, just a elbow to another . . . and one after another they fall onto the sidewalk with a loud thud. “Brightness like that, it’s just not good for your heads.”
“Nraaa . . .?” One of them cries out, and the others make similar enough sounds.
“That’s right boys. Staring at the sun can blind your eyes, but staring at that mist can blind your minds. Blind them to reality. Blind them to fiction. Blind them to absolutely everything besides nothingness itself. I know you might not believe me now, but I’m sure the more that you try and open your eyes only to have them squeeze shut all on their own . . . You’ll know that this is for the best.”
Getting shades that clip on over a domino mask are not the easiest things to procure, but it’s not impossible. “N . . . not . . .” Just like getting two men to believe that some harmless dust, not even Dust’s dust, that is especially good at reflecting light . . . is actually able to fry a mind’s eyes shut.
One of the men is managing to disbelieve my little ruse, but I was suspecting as much. “Aww, but it’s working on your friends. You don’t hear them arguing do you? Just enjoy it. You wanted to stop that pretty girl, now a pretty girl stopped you. Oh, she’s not going to really do anything else to you, but . . . You don’t need that. You don’t need some girl to make things better. Just keep trying to stare at the sparkles. Prove me wrong, and end up just like your friends, incapacitated with blinded minds.”
He doesn’t respond, unless you count strangled sound as a response. All he does is whimper and stay on the ground.
“Good boy.”
“What the . . . hell . . . are you doin’ to ‘em?!” The lovely bleach blonde woman speaks up, and I leap out of the sparkles with another flip. The way the air rushes under me I know it creates a sparkling trail behind me, and a little melodrama goes along way. Plus, it helps my already glittering suit sparkle brighter.
She already looks a little glazed around the edges. That’s good. The closer I can open up her mind, the sooner I can dive in and take just what I need before sealing it shut anew. “I’m just teaching them how good it can feel to feel nothing at all. Would you like to feel that? Would you like to feel bliss better than any man has ever made you feel?”
“I ain’t no . . .” She just trembles, and I grin as my clicking boots start moving slowly closer to her. “Stay the hell away! I’ve got mace you too late for Halloween . . . freak!”
“Freak . . . Freaklette . . . I’ve been called freak in a lot of different ways tonight . . .” I’m so close to her, I can almost smell the sweat on her. The light from Sylvia that manages to get past the mist is just enough to let me see it. “And I haven’t said anything bad about any of you . . .”
Her eyes dart away from me, and then back. “You . . . You’re scarin’ me! Come on, go away! I can’t do nothin’ to hurt ya if you can take down the boys . . . just . . . go away ya . . . ya . . .”
“Freak . . .?” I try to sound helpful, but there’s a bratty edge to my voice even then. The power I can feel over her is such a rush. There’s no sexual attraction between me and the fallen men, but even that gives me a rush. Control, but not just aimless control, no; this control brings justice. This control brings freedom. This control brings salvation.
“Yuh! Freak!”
Sighing, I lower my head, and then shake it. “I had hopes for you, blondie. You had potential. Some kind of inner passion . . . You just need some help . . .” Reaching down to my belt, I pull out a tube, and after popping off the top, I slowly slide it along my lips. “You just need compassion.”
The tube goes back into my belt, but my lips sparkle for it’s time outside. They sparkle black like oil slicks, more rainbow than black, but no one ever calls an oil slick a rainbow. “Whuh . . .?! You’re nuts!”
“No, I’m not.” Sigh. “I don’t even have any . . . and neither do you. Don’t need them. Don’t want them.” Silly girl, all you need to do to make them walk sideways instead of backwards, is trace a curve when you walk towards them. They go from having nothing but sidewalk behind them, to storefronts.
Storefronts with closed signs, and no one who won’t want to hear her scream . . .
“It’s not advanced physics to know that a normal girl can’t walk through that wall, sweetheart . . .” She turns behind her, and cries out when she realizes her mistake, but then turns back around. “Relax.”
“Re-lax?! How the hell am I supposed to re-lax?! I got some . . . some . . . psycho masked bitch . . . Backin’ me up against a . . . against a wall . . .” Her voice quivers, and every time it does, so do her legs. “Some kinda . . . fuckin’ . . . dyke . . .”
Sighing, I reach out, so close to her, I can actually cup her cheek with my hand. The other reaches up, and pulls away the shades, sliding them back into their pouch. “Now, now . . . Don’t swear. Naughty girl.”
“Who the . . . hell are you?” She’s panting, gasping, staring into my eyes because there’s nowhere else to stare but deep inside of my sweet brown eyes, nowhere else to go but deep into those pupils. Right now, I could just stare and feel her fall, but the direct approach is more safe. The direct approach is more intense. The direct approach is just what she needs.
Her lips shake, and I slide my thumb across the lower, slowly. “I am the spiral that sweeps away fear. I am the pendulum that clicks away calamity. I . . .” My own lips move so close, just my thumb between hers and mine, and just a coat of shiny clear lipstick between mine and the red drug coating my lips.
“I . . .” My thumb pulls away, and her eyes go from worried to frightened. Her body tenses against mine, and I can feel her bare legs against mine. Those pockets actually feel nice, in a slumming sort of way. “. . . am Patina. And Patina, is a name, you will never forget.”
Before she can move, my hand wraps around her neck, and my lips mesh into hers. Some artists use brushes and canvas, but her lips take my paint better than if they were white. The red sears into her, and I can feel just a little of it push through the clear into me. It’s only enough to steel my resolve, and more than enough to make her quiver. Her body stops shaking . . . and then heaves forward.
Her legs wrap around me, and her lips mesh harder into mine, so much harder I can feel her teeth almost pressing to mine through her lips, but only because of that passion I saw before, the passion that makes her beautiful even when she looks like a whore.
If she’s a whore, then she’s my whore, and the only price is accepting her embrace. Her breasts grind into me through my leotard and a few layers of cotton. When I reach my other hand under her top I find she’s not wearing a bra, and every time she tries to grind her warm jean covered crotch harder into my body, her breast heaves against my hand.
Her nipple is already so hard and just the slightest squeeze between my fingers makes her scream even though our lips are helplessly mashed. Our bodies are helplessly mashed. Where one of us starts and the other ends just isn’t there, and in this perfect moment all we are, is her passion.
Right now the only word on her mind is my name. The only thought on her mind is my name. The only urge in her body is to fuck, and I can’t let her down, not when I gave her that need. She needs relief, and bad. Her musk is so strong, I can smell it even though I’m still meshed into her other lips, and I know that just means she needs me more.
Justice wouldn’t be satisfied if I left her clinging and wet, instead of limp and deluged.
I twist her nipple harder, and our kiss breaks when she needs air, air to scream and plead for more. When lust is this strong, and obedience to that urge to fuck is so overwhelming, it’s hard to breathe through your nose. I nibble over her neck as I keep fucking her nipple with my fingers. Nobody might call it that, but twisting, pulling, flicking that warm piece of flesh between my fingers makes her buck more than anyone else ever has, so if this isn’t fucking, nothing is.
Her back arches, arches enough to push her off of the building, and enough for me to grab her top and pull it up. Her breasts aren’t big—but they don’t need to be. They’re round, soft, warm, and they need me more than they need the blood that’s making them so tender and flushed.
My lips close around the poor nipple I haven’t yet fucked, and she spasms out of control. I’d worry about her head if her neck wasn’t limp, but it is. She lets me lower her down, still sucking that nub hard into my mouth as I can, and I unzip her shorts with her still pressing against me. She doesn’t want to let me pull back enough to tear them off, but a hard nip to the tip of her hard flesh and she’s too limp with pleasure to choose.
Her shorts are off, and her ratty panties follow them. I can’t let her hurt that ass, so I let her lower it onto her own shorts before I look up at her. Red on her lips, on her neck, on her nipple. That’s enough red vine wrapped around her mind to keep her tied inside of herself for awhile.
Her legs are spread already, but when I start to spread the red over her dripping lips, they part even more. Her sounds stop being human, and turn desperate, animal. The urge to be fucked and have everything else burned away is stronger than self preservation, it’s stronger than personality, it’s stronger than me, but right now, I’m the one who controls that for her. I’m the only one who can satisfy that for her, but she’s not here enough to know it.
She’s only here enough to be fucked, and she doesn’t even want to be here any more than that. She bucks and drips and clenches around my fingers when I let her feel them, but even that’s not enough for her for long. She needs the red latching at her clit, and the red of my tongue flicking.
I get another taste of red vines inside of me, but all it does is bind me to control her more, to make her feel better, to give her this release that will tie her in introspection long enough to change her life forever.
Or maybe that’s just what I’m trapped in, but it’s right now, all that matters to me.
One track focus, one track success—she screams and I don’t see or feel her toes curl, but I feel myself almost drown as she bursts. The taste is sharper, deeper, and more intense. Right when she’s done shaking, when her hands stop clutching at my hair like I’m all that’s keeping her alive, she goes limp and falls back against the building. Her eyes are open, but they’re all one color.
Red. Red vine red, just like the candy. It’s called that for a reason.
Slowly I kiss my way up her body, licking and coating her with her own scent, her own taste, and whisper right into her ear. “You need to change your life. You need to change yourself. You need to change the world. Being a thug is only for cheap sluts, and cheap sluts don’t get fucked like that unless it’s to get a second chance. This is your second chance. You can be a slut, riding cheap cock that only makes you have to diddle yourself off later, or you can shape up.
“Doesn’t need to be a life of being fucked by costumed women like me. There are no other costumed women like me, anyway. You can keep a nice thick cock between your thighs, as long as it’s a worthy one. None of them are. Thugs. Creeps. Morons. You need something attached to a brain, something attached to a future.”
I pull up, and watch her. Red eyes, right now, that red is just twining my words and my touches with what drove her before. It’s getting rid of whatever worries, whatever fears, turned her into a gutter diving piece of street trash. If she’s lucky, the effect might last.
Anyone that can kiss like that deserves to have more than a future of accosting cuties.
Cuties! Damn, I almost forgot. Seduction like that always gets me steamy, but I can’t very well let a cutie like that go to waste. It’s my thing. If you can’t take bullets, you may as well make them not want to be near them.
The woman I dashed into save is just staring at me. She looks afraid, and I don’t blame her. When she starts to turn away, I don’t move towards her. “Wait! I know what I do seems a little . . . Aggressive to be one of the good guys, but I’m not after you. I don’t put up with boys doing a thing like that to anyone, and well, I throw in a little re-education for the women. The men too, when I’m feeling generous. I just hate being called a freaklette instead of a full blown freak.”
She laughs, and looks nervously down at what she’s holding. It looks like a three ring binder full of paper. “That looks heavy. Know what, if where you’re going isn’t too far from here, I can give you a lift on my bike.”
My damsel in distress blushes, and it looks so gorgeous. Her skin looks pale, and her hair is blonde like dark honey is blonde. Her eyes I can’t white make out, but they look green. She’s dressed in a white blouse and a green skirt that’s classy while still being longer. It’s a nice touch to not look like a slut. “It’s really not that far and . . . thanks. I, I’m an information broker, and those goons work for someone I was getting information on. I’m an informant, sort of. I don’t go under cover or anything, but if there’s information, I can find it.”
“Sounds like a useful talent. Come on, don’t be shy. You’re not my type—haven’t done anything wrong.” She laughs nervously, and I don’t blame her. Still, she follows me to my bike. “Informant huh? Sounds dangerous.”
“Yeah . . . it is! My names Alyssa, Alyssa Gardener, and if you ever need anything, I mean anything, I’ll find it out for you. I mean, I can’t do anything like you can, but like I said, I can find out anything about anyone as long as somebody else knows it—and even the best kept secrets need to be shared with at least two people.” I get up onto my bike, and smile when she gets on side saddle, She plops her papers onto the gas tank, and wraps her arms around me so they hold either side of the binder.
I like this girl. “I didn’t save your life because I knew why they were after you, or who they are. Tell me when to turn.” I start up the bike, and drive around the three fallen men. One of them looks like he’s standing up, but it’s a bit too late for that t matter.
Alyssa hugs tighter and squeaks. “Now, left, then in about five blocks take a right. I know you didn’t, that’s why I want to help you. Right now I’m just dropping off a decoded message, some woman wrote it in Elvish. It’s an admission of everything she did working for Chronos, and this guy wants it to help put her behind bars. She’s some kind of forest sprite, but apparently she’s got a normal identity too.”
Ithildin. I knew her. I recruited her.
In a past life, anyway.
“Yeah, I can hardly believe it . . . Why didn’t it come up when the big sting went down?” If this woman really is worth her salt, she might be worth having around.
“Because a lot of files Chronos had were dumped into a private server hosted overseas. The IP address scrambles, and most attempts to hack into it just reveal faulty accounting documents. If you log in properly, it has some other information, about recruitment. A lot of it is torn up and encrypted, but I could get enough on the forest sprite to get her put away. It all links to evidence, and that’ll be everything he needs. She stole his daughter from him, and when they raided Chronos, she wasn’t found. He thinks she knows more. I’m inclined to agree.”
So am I . . . So am I. “All right, here you go. Alyssa . . . Write down your number for me really quick? I just might be giving you a call after all, but it’s only because you offered.”
I stop the bike in front of an old apartment building. It looks rent controlled, but stylized in the way all buildings used to be. Some might think its ugly, but I think it’s nice.
She smiles, and tears some paper out of her binder before scribbling her number out with a pen from her purse. “Really, Patina was it . . .? I sort of listened in, I was . . . sort of intrigued. If you have any problems, you just call me up, and I’ll give you a hand, all right?”
She hops off, and I wave as she walks up to the door before speeding away. The cops can handle the thugs. The sun is coming up, and Lucia Colloten has a big day tomorrow.
I head back to the hotel to get some sleep.