“Man is a social creature.
Man is a vain creature.
Man uses society to feed his vanity.”
Lessons of Gaetta
Simon, broad shouldered, fit and slightly sweaty, came jogging over.
“Hey Otto! You going to sit there all day?” he asked.
Ottavio looked up and pushed out a smiled. Simon could be a bit overwhelming. He had not seen him for quite some time, but he sounded pretty much as he remembered.
“Seems like a plan. What have you been up to?”
“Eh, this and that. I haven't seen you since I left for Uganda. You were heading off to do some pussy peace keeping mission.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
Simon grinned to himself, “Yeah. Kicked a lot of butt over there. You want peace keeping? Try breaking the peace with a bullet in your head. Ha! Uganda was a whole lot more interesting than, wherever you went.”
“New Guinea.”
“Whatever. Anyway, enough about me. Supposed to be setting up my new team. Bunch of wannabe pansies. How are your legs holding up after the surgery?”
Ottavio instinctively rubbed his knees, “You know, it's strange. This readout thing is saying they're still only at seventy percent.”
Simon replied, “Ha, yeah, I had the same thing. It's those myoactuators, they take a bit of time to bond with the muscles or something. Why, you hurting?”
“No. I mean, they're stiff, but...”
“Well you can sit there whining or you can stretch them legs, eh?”
He tossed Ottavio a basketball. Ottavio bounced it a few times and trotted after Simon.
“So, you've been modified as well?” he asked.
“Sure have, best thing I ever did. Check this out!”
Simon grabbed the ball, bounced it around playfully and raced to the hoop. With a light grunt he launched himself up into the air and slammed the ball through the ring before dropping lightly to the floor.
“See that? I'm six one, and that's at professional height. Now let's make it a bit more interesting, eh?”
He pushed a button on the side of the pole. The ring rose up higher and higher. “Right, that's a full three feet higher than professional standards.”
Ottavio watched on expectantly. Simon checked his footing and paused for a bit, concentrating. He crouched, sprinted and then practically flew up to the ring, dropping the ball neatly within. He landed as lightly as before, grabbed the ball and passed it to Ottavio, smiling happily.
“Now don't tell me that wasn't impressive, because it bloody well took me a while to master, even with the implants!” snorted Simon.
“Can I do that?”
“Dunno,” said Simon, shrugging, “Probably not. Heck, why don't you give it a try. You're supposed to be exercising, anyway. Here, I'll lower it back down to pussy height.”
The ring obligingly sank. It still appeared formidable. Ottavio rolled the ball in his hands, hoping he would not appear too foolish.
“Just be careful coming back down, right,” warned Simon with a smug smile.
Ottavio nodded and bounced the ball to get a feel of its weight. He took a run and jumped as hard as he could. To his enormous surprise the ground seemed to fly away from him as the ring came down to greet him.
“Uh!” he grunted as his head collided with the backboard. He flopped clumsily back down to the ground, clutching his head.
Simon came over, laughing hard. When he had caught his breath, he said, “Oh mate, you should've seen your face! That was priceless. Yeah, mate, you've gotta learn to control it!”
Control. The word rattled inside Ottavio's head. It seemed that for the past few weeks, he had been rolling along on a wave, being pushed this way and that. Ever since he had woken up from his surgical stasis he had been doing whatever it was that Houston asked.
As he lay there on the floor, he tried to think of the last time he made a decision for himself. Something that did not require a command from above. Something for which he was wholly responsible.
Simon slapped his face.
“Hey, princess,” he said standing over him, “You thinking about lying there all day?”
“Would that be so bad?”
Simon grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet. “Come on, princess, walk it off and try that again.”
Ottavio dusted himself off and tried to concentrate. After a few attempts Ottavio managed to pot a few clumsy hoops. Simon mused, “When I was a pup, I remember getting teased by the bigger kids 'cause I couldn't dunk a ball. And it wasn't for a lack of trying, either. I ended up getting real good at shooting, but. Man, if those guys could see me now! How are you feeling, anyway? Your legs stinging yet?”
Ottavio was a little puffed, “Absolutely. Well, not stinging, more like an ache.”
He sat down and rubbed them a little. Simon sat next to him and drank noisily from his water bottle.
“Yeah, they'll do that a fair bit. Takes about a fortnight before it stops. Until then, get as much exercise as you can. I dare say you won't be doing the full height of the ring for a while. Kind of depends on what kind of actuators they stuck in. Mine, you see, mine are designed to aid with strength and speed. Others, like Cassandra and Lucas are more for endurance and stability.”
Ottavio looked up, “Cassandra Whithers?”
“Oh, you've met her, then. The brunette with the tight rack.”
“What... I know her. I just didn't know that she applied for special duties. I knew Lucas did, we applied together. But I thought she was transferred...”
Simon looked at him sideways, “Oh... I get it.”
“What? There's nothing to get. I just didn't know, that's all.”
“Uh-huh. Didn't know, right on,” pushed Simon sarcastically.
“So their implants are different, then?” said Ottavio, trying to change the subject.
“Of course. We're a bunch of guinea pigs, mate, didn't you know? I mean, they've got all these ideas of how they can improve agents. Take me, for example. They've geared me toward hand to hand combat. I'm stronger, faster and I've got the reflexes of a cat! What's more, they've even given my skin a going over. It was painful as, let me tell you, but well worth it. Look!”
Simon grabbed a combat knife from his belt and dragged it over his arm. Although it was razor sharp, it barely left a scratch. “They call it plasmesh or synthmesh or something. Don't care for the name much but the results speak for themselves. Doesn't mean I'm invulnerable, you know, but in a straight-up fight it's like I'm wearing armor!”
Ottavio whistled appropriately. Simon put his knife away and pointed with his chin. Ottavio could see Lucas on a treadmill.
“Lucas over there, he and Cassandra have been assigned espionage and reconnaissance duty. They've got some kind of visual enhancement. Lucas is getting trained in using a super-range sniper rifle, and Cassandra...”
“Stop that,” hissed Ottavio.
Simon poked him in the ribs and chuckled, “Whatever. She's multitalented. Apart from her tight rack, she's also got the lightest fingers around.”
Ottavio scowled.
“Man, you should see your face! I was talking about her picking a lock! Shwick! Just like that. Skilled hands. Very skilled hands,” he winked, “She's modded up with some Lock Picking thing, feedback sensors in her fingers, and she's got an enhanced hearing module, Owl Audio, which means she's probably listening in on us right now!”
Ottavio tried not to look worried. He failed.
“Geez, relax a little, mate. I'm just having a go. Doc tells me it's strictly ultra-sonic hearing so she can listen to locks and stuff while she's fiddling.”
“They're going to make us a team, aren't they?” surmised Ottavio.
“Huh? Well, check out the brains on this one. They must've given you a cerebral upgrade. Didn't know they had an Einstein Module. Yeah, looks like I've got me a team of pussies. Personally, I'd prefer a whole team of me's. We'd just go in, kick some ass and get out. But I guess if there's a lock to pick I'd prefer to watch a bit of candy... Hey look, mate, if you want to have a crack, go ahead. But I think she goes for the bad boys. So don't be surprised if you have to be knocking on my door to give her flowers.”
Ottavio rubbed his head, “Look...”
“It's perfectly natural. I have this thing, you know, women just fall at my feet. Well, I'm still working my way through this facility. Last week was that chick on reception...”
“Natasha?”
“Yeah. Wasn't worth the hassle. The biology chick was better. Then there's Penelope...”
“Penelope?” scoffed Ottavio, “You're dreaming.”
“Yeah, yeah I might be,” Simon said, smirking, “But every fortress has its weakness, and she'll crack eventually. They always do. Until then, Cass will have to do.”
Ottavio pretended not to care. He did not make a good job of it.
Simon's face darkened a fraction, “Hey, don't sweat it. Just keep it professional, yeah? I don't need you getting shitty out in the field. Come on, snap out of it. Let's go for a bit of a run around the track.”
Ottavio followed him around the track, trying his best to keep up.
“Geez, Simon, is that the best you can do? You'll want to get those implants looked at,” joked Ottavio.
Simon happily accepted the challenge and took off down the track. In thirty seconds he was coming up from behind Ottavio. He slapped him playfully on the rump as he passed, “Come on, bitch, what do you think of that, eh?”
He slowed down and allowed Ottavio to catch up.
“So,” puffed Ottavio, finding it difficult to run and talk, “What have I been adapted for?”
Simon scratched his nose, “Yeah. That's what's screwed up about this place. I'm clearly the best operative they've got, I'm already modded, and they go and give some pussy the works. I've already put it to the Doc. He seems to think you're the next big thing.”
“What?”
“You've got the works, baby. Doc says they're gonna switch on modules as you get better. Something about not overloading your pathetic little brain by having them all on at once.”
“That's bullshit. I mean, Doctor Jung didn't say...”
“Nah, he wouldn't. Not until he was sure you weren't going to flip. Oh, shit. You're not going to get all weird about it are you?”
Ottavio's jaw pushed forward. What had Houston done with his body?
“No,” he said, “I'm sure there's just been in a miscommunication or something.”
“Hey, if you don't believe me, ask Penelope next time you see her. Say, do you reckon she... Nah, never mind.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Hey, let's have a quick chat to Lucas.”
The two left the track and plodded over to where Lucas was stretching his arms. Behind his quiet brown eyes and cropped hair, Lucas was a silent lake, brooding and still. During missions, during leave, it did not matter, he was unflappable.
“Howdy, Lucas,” yelled Simon, slapping him on the shoulder. Lucas nodded politely.
“Hello. It's good to see you up and about, Ottavio,” he said, attempting a smile.
“And you, Lucas. Say, Simon was just telling me about this super-long range sniper rifle,” said Ottavio, shaking his hand.
Lucas again nodded, “It's something to behold. I'm still getting the hang of it, but the idea is that each round has microfine flechettes integrated with actuators that adjust depending on the bullet's trajectory. In short, I can put a piece of lead in a target three kilometers away so long as I can maintain a line of sight, and get the starting angle right.”
“Sounds touchy,” smirked Simon.
“It takes a bit of getting used to, and a good pair of steady hands. It removes a lot of the variables of turbulence and aerodynamics from the picture, which is nice, and it also means that the target can move a bit, but too much adjustment can cause the round to tumble or drop prematurely,” said Lucas, “I've been modded with Steady Hands and Eagle Eye. Jung says the lab is working on newer versions, should be upgraded sometime next week. Still, it's not like a standard rifle. It's got a massive kick, even with the anti-recoil, and the guidance is very... subtle.”
Subtle. That described Lucas perfectly. His emotions hardly ever showed, creeping out only through the barest of facial changes. Anyone who did not know him would consider him cold and impassive. Anyone who worked on a mission with him would know otherwise.
Simon spat, “Pah. Long range bullshit. Just give me a knife and row of jugulars! None of this hiding for me!”
Lucas countered, “A single bullet can change the course of an empire, Simon, more than an ocean of blood.”
“Well said!” said a puffing Doctor Jung, “Well said indeed!”
He tottered up to the group.
“Agent Simon,” he scolded, “Agent Ottavio is still under observation. You were ordered to inform me prior to any exercise received.”
“Sorry, Doc. I thought you had already been informed. Must've been a miscommunication.”
“Yes, well, you can fill me in on what you have been doing. Ottavio, you are to report to Miss Penelope at once.”
“Do I need to accompany him?” said Simon, a twinkle crossing his eyes.
Doctor Jung, missing the subtleties, shook his head. “No, I need you to report on your training of Agent Ottavio, then go over the training plan for Agent Lucas.”
“You're my trainer?” asked Ottavio to Simon.
Doctor Jung led them away, “Yes, yes, Agent Simon is your physical trainer, even though I personally think that one's trainer and one's squad leader should be separate concerns.”
“I'm as good a trainer as you'll find out there. And if I can't pick my team, at least I can mold these pussies into proper fighters,” said Simon after them. What passed for joviality had left Simon's face. Doctor Jung sensed the change in the mood.
“We can, um, discuss your objections in private, Agent Simon. For now, Agent Ottavio, get along to Miss Penelope's office. She is not one to be kept waiting!” said Doctor Jung, waving his hand at Ottavio.
Ottavio cantered away, leaving the three looking after him. He entered the main hall and slowed down to a fast walk. It would not do to be running inside, not unless there was an emergency. Guards were posted all around, guards who had been trained to immobilize first and ask questions later.
Funnily enough, even though Ottavio had been at Houston Corps for several years, he had never gotten to know many of them except for Kilroy, the guard posted by the dormitories, and Wei, who wandered the mess hall.
For the most part they kept to themselves, watching silently from underneath the silver visors of their helmets. On more than a few occasions Ottavio found himself wondering if there were actual humans underneath the armor.
This was a different sector of Houston Corps, with higher security and fewer people than the General Access facility in Minnesota where he used to work.
Everything was polished and sterile. A few pot plants were dotted about and a small fountain was placed in the foyer which emitted a constant trickling noise in a futile attempt to bring life to the white, fluorescent-lit walls. The marble on the floor echoed happily as he marched along.
As he whizzed past the front desk, Natasha urged him on, “Miss Penelope is waiting for you, Agent Ottavio. Please see her in her office at once.” Ottavio nodded and continued on to the Biological Research wing.
Natasha was nothing if not efficient. She was pleasant enough when she needed to be, which was often, but Ottavio had seen her other side on more than one occasion.
Several people passed him by, some he recognized, some he did not. Being new to the sector, he tried hard to remember faces and names where possible, especially the more important ones. He passed by several offices before stopping at Penelope's.
Ottavio buzzed the intercom.
“Yes?” came her voice.
“Agent Ottavio, ma'am.”
“About time, come in.”
The lock on the door clicked and Ottavio pushed it open. Penelope sat behind a small, black desk, her hair pulled up tightly. Although her face was serious, Ottavio saw a softness behind the glasses and straight mouth. She was motherly, in a regimental kind of way.
He stood to attention, “Ma'am.”
“How do you feel? And please do not bother to give me numerics. I already have a detailed chart of your recovery progress. I am after how you, personally, feel.”
Ottavio thought for a bit. I would not do to appear dissatisfied. “I feel fine and fit. A little sore in the legs, but only because I've been exercising in the yard.”
“What about your emotional status. Are you happy? Sad? Angry?”
“No,” said Ottavio, shaking his head, “I can't say that I'm angry or sad in any way.”
“Do not lie to me, Agent.”
He gritted his teeth. There was no hiding from Miss Penelope's eyes. “Honestly? I am displeased with my level of modification,” he said carefully.
“In what way?”
“I don't remember signing up to have these implants in the first place, ma'am.”
Miss Penelope replied, “You did when you signed up for special duties.”
“Simon told me. How much of my real body is left?”
“Adaptation does not replace, only augments. You are still you, if that is what you are concerned about.”
“I signed up so I could perform covert work, not to be some guinea pig getting robot eyes. I signed up so I could be a better Agent.”
“And we have made you a better Agent.”
Ottavio swallowed his words.
Miss Penelope went on, “The adaptations we have made are in line with Houston's policy. If you read under section forty two...”
“I'm sure it's all legal. I just didn't know Houston owned my ass. Literally.”
“You will refrain from using such vulgar language, Agent.”
Ottavio simmered. There were things he wanted to say, about how he felt violated, about how the adaptations were amazing, but they made him feel like a machine. Again, he swallowed his words.
“I understand ma'am.”
“Good. So long as we are clear. Now, are you nervous about your performance? After all the work that has been done, surely you realize that we have high expectations of you?”
Penelope leaned forward in her chair, watching him with eagle eyes.
Ottavio pursed his lips. Expectations. There was something in the way she said that word that made him think twice. He opted for a safe approach, “I will always strive to perform at the top of my abi...”
“Do not give me bullshit answers, Agent! We have invested a lot of time and money and more than that we have bent several federal and international laws to make you the way you are,” Penelope lowered her spectacles, “You are the end product of nearly three decades worth of research and development. Your body has been selected as the prototype for demonstrating our full capabilities for biological adaptation.”
“Lucas and Simon, they...”
“The others have been enhanced in their own way, displaying specialized adaptations. They are but window dressing. You, Ottavio, you are our trump card. People are watching you, very important people who make very important decisions. Do not underestimate your importance.”
“I understand...”
“Silence! I know you do not understand. Listen very carefully Agent. I will say this clearly: We cannot risk losing you. If there is ever a choice between saving yourself and saving others, you are to choose yourself. If you must choose between obeying orders and saving your life, you must choose your own life. I know that this goes against your basic instincts of team camaraderie, as well it should. You are human, after all.”
Ottavio waited in silence. He was not sure if she wanted him to say something, but he could not think of anything to say, so he kept quiet. Penelope leaned back in her chair.
“Feelings are just that, feelings. They come and go as they please, and think that they can rule your reason. Remember first and foremost that you are an Agent, and as such you must follow orders. I am giving one of them to you now: Save yourself at all costs. I hope I have made myself clear?”
“Crystal.”
“Do you agree with my orders?”
Ottavio knew the answer, “What I agree or disagree with does not matter.”
“Very good,” cooed Penelope, “Now I have some news for you. You are to be sent on a mission in a fortnight. It is fairly light, mostly reconnaissance work, but your every move will be monitored and scrutinized. Expect a full briefing at oh-nine hundred on Thursday.”
“Yes, ma'am,” said Ottavio.
Penelope looked him up and down.
“Tell me, Agent, have you met the other members of your squad?”
“I believe so, ma'am. At least, I know Simon and Lucas.”
“What about Agents Norbert, Cassandra and Emily?”
“No ma'am.”
“No?”
Ottavio swallowed. “Well, I have met Agent Cassandra briefly.”
“I see. And what do you think of her?”
“I can't say. I only saw her...”
“Again with the bullshit. Agent Ottavio, we will be able to proceed much faster if you understand that I am not interested in fluff for answers,” said Penelope. She tapped out some pencil shavings into a bin.
“You deliberately did not mention her name when I asked about who you knew in your team, and yet you now reveal that you know her. I wonder, am I going to have to intercede at some point in the future in relation to an unwarranted advance?”
“No ma'am.”
“Because this establishment is above human emotions and cravings, you understand,” continued Penelope, “We are leading the world in technological advancements. We bring peace to otherwise troubled areas. We prevent chaos from taking root. These are Houston's roles and I will not have them undermined by some pathetic primal craving. Do I make myself clear?”
“