As the sisters exited the club, they noticed faces they hadn’t seen before, nodding at them, seemingly in approval.

  Noa smiled at a few she may have recognized from the Security Complex at the Essedar High Rise. She turned to Anya, who was looking straight ahead and extending her chin ahead of them, making Noa turn toward the direction.

  Hassan was there, in a deep conversation with one of the bouncers at the door, as the sisters approached them. Noa cleared her throat louder than needed, and the both of them looked at him expectantly.

  He turned to acknowledge them before he nodded to the large man he was talking to. Their hands moved as if in unison as they exchanged what looked to Noa like a handshake.

  “So, all good then?”

  Noa dipped her head and smiled while Anya voiced her answer.

  “Yep, and you'd better tell me the bad news on the way so I can drown it out with the transpo’s engine noises.” She chuckled dryly.

  Hassan returned the chuckle and tilted his head toward the corner where their hover transport awaited them.

  The sisters spoke animatedly as Hassan led them forward, breaking down the scuffle they had just had after they exited the VIP room.

  “So, what did I tell you? Drunks and regular partygoers are easy to deal with, right?” Hassan interjected as they approached their transport; its ramp was already open for them.

  Anya chuckled as she shrugged. “Yea, they were kinda shocked how they got gurl-handled.”

  She giggled slightly as she thickened the Rs of the word.

  Noa was quiet until they sat down, then leaned forward as the ramp closed.

  “I think they were Brotherhood boys.”

  Hassan asked her, “How did you come to that conclusion?”

  “Their ink looked like INSIL to me. And from what you’ve shown, the designs I could see looked typical Brotherhood.”

  He smiled as his head bopped slowly up and down, massaging his chin as he described the designs that were commonly associated with that organization.

  She dipped her chin and smiled. “Yes, yes, that would be how it looked.”

  Anya piped in now. “Wait, so, if they had nano-ink on them? Why were they so... You know? Lame?”

  Hassan goffered at the question. “See, this happens when you allow the free use of just any sims on the street.”

  This piqued Noa’s interest as she kept her forward lean still. “I don’t follow.”

  “You girls are familiar with the use of com-sims for enhanced performance, yes?”

  They nodded in unison, their expressions focused on what they expected Hassan to explain next.

  “Okay. Well, the use of com-sims usually goes with usage of implants. Almost all sims give you enhanced senses and reaction time, in line with the capacity to properly use the amount of information implants will give you during a given situation, doesn’t have to be a fight either; could be surveillance.”

  “Okay.” Noa dragged out her reply, still confused.

  “Patience, Noa.” Hassan grinned at her.

  “Furthermore, military-grade com-sims, which all the High House’s security and intel arms utilize, work in a way that they allow for a higher tolerance of pain, so say, you get shot, but your armor protected you…”

  “It’ll still hurt from the sheer force of the round…” Noa continued.

  Hassan nodded, “Yes… but the sims will mask that pain. You’ll still feel sore once the sims run out but won’t flinch from it during usage.”

  Anya leaned back, slightly pouting as she folded her arms. " Still doesn’t explain why they were lamers, though.”

  Hassan chuckled and shook his head. His hands moved, his palms rocking back and forth as if to ask the girls for patience.

  “Now, you get knockoff combat sims on the market. We know they are around; it's available for the civ market. Real Mil-grade combat sims are only for sale to military and intel organizations, and they aren't available over the counter or at, say, a regular drug store or a tech doc.”

  Noa shrugged and shook her head as she looked at Anya, who returned the same expression to her.

  “Knockoff sims are… bad copies of mil-grade com-sims because the key ingredient can’t be replicated. The synthesis of those are made only at locations within High Rise. Each High House will always have a few locations each.”

  Noa grinned at this.

  “So anyway, The main gangs…” He paused and turned to Anya with an expression that expected an answer.

  She sighed lazily.

  “Hyenas, Apostates and the Brotherhood. And different factions that make up the Independent Gangs Union.” She blurted them out, adding air quotes to the last name.

  “Yes, they contract chem houses to make these sims, but since the critical ingredient in mil-grade combat sims isn’t available to them, they have a downside to their continued usage.”

  “Finally, the juicy part,” Noa interjected, leaning back, joining her sister as she crossed her arms. Both of them looked at Hassan impatiently.

  He chuckled and curtly dipped his chin. “Continued use of them builds tolerance in the body, and, when that happens, you gotta take more to have the same effect… when THAT happens, not using it will negatively affect your performance in a fight.”

  The sisters nodded, almost in unison, their minds soaking in the information.

  “It's a form of control the High Houses use. If you work and allow these underworld types to move around with their big ideas, there must be ways to control them. These people are animals; they may pretend not to be, but they are.” Hassan leaned back as he finished.

  Anya opened her mouth to say something, then leaned back, electing not to comment instead.

  Hassan wasn’t quite finished. “Be warned, though. Some mercs who had just left House security or intel may have contacts inside who smuggle them out.”

  Anya frowned. “Huh, does that happen a lot?”

  He shook his head slowly. “Very rarely, Essedar executes any smuggler found with even an iota of House property, and I can fairly surmise so do the other High Houses.”

  Noa shrugged. “I don’t get it. With all the tech out there, doesn’t anyone come up with something else that can do the same thing?”

  Hassan smiled. “Good question. House Mallifar was one of them. Rumor was they had manufactured sims with modified blood to use as a basis for their com-sims. There were a whole slew of rumors of what they did around those, too. No real record has been recovered for their research.”

  He shrugged before continuing, “...which worked out well. Status Quo returned.”

  The sisters scoffed at that. House Mallifar was the big bad High House, so drunk on its power that it wanted to change the ways of the High Houses. The High Rises of the quad-city and even Lowbie town were replete with rumors about how bad things were when it controlled the High House council.

  “How about the other nations?” Anya’s eyes reflected deep thought.

  “Which?” Hassan smiled. He was more than glad to entertain questions from the sisters.

  She shrugged. “You know, the Western Confederation. The other Dominion in the southwest?”

  He nodded slowly as he recalled the knowledge of the nations bordering theirs.

  “The Western Confederation has its brand of combat stimulants. If I recall, it's based on plants found within their borders. It's the same in the South. They have their processes. Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the plants that may be similar to theirs aren’t around anymore on our side of the continent.”

  Anya shrugged. “Can’t just plant new ones?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. But the plants and critters we use as base sources for the chemists are already cultivated on an industrial scale. To switch would be more than just expensive…” He paused as he looked at Noa.

  She sighed and, with a deflated expression, answered unenthusiastically.

  “Sudden and drastic change in the livelihood of pet...” she paused as she looked at him, whose face had turned sterner at her use of the term in front of him.

  She continued, distinctly remembering the part she read on this particular subject; droning on at a monotone, “... non-High Rise residents run the risk of a lowered tolerance to the challenges of living in the quad-cities. This runs against the policy of the High Houses in their retainment of the rule of the quad-city region.”

  She sighed. “In short, keep the masses happy, less headaches for Father and the rest.”

  Hassan nodded. “And for those that excel and catch the eye of the High Houses, then you get amazingly kick-ass people like me.” he grinned as he sat up straight, much to the sisters' amusement.

  “Okay, you girls satisfied now?” He looked at each of them, then paused as if waiting.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Yes.” They finally replied, Noa, adding another ‘yes’ to hers.

  He smiled as he clapped and then rubbed his large hands together.

  “So tell me, what did you two discuss with Bones?”

  —----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  They reached the Essedar High Rise compound later than planned. Hassan had elected to fly over some farming communities between the quad-city's sprawling urban and suburban areas and the High Rise to give each of them an idea of the massive farming collectives around the quad-city region, most of which were located outside the urbanized areas.

  The sisters debarked from their transport and continued discussing their fight. Both exchanged notes on how each could improve and made mental notes on forwarding their concerns to Hassan during their next melee combat training session.

  The debrief during the rest of the ride went smoothly, and an action plan was implemented.

  Noa’s task for the evening was to prepare a kit load for the projected mission she would embark on.

  “So… excited? I wish I could join you.” Anya sighed as she leaned by the doorway into Noa’s room.

  Her sister smiled and nodded, “Yes, yes, I am! Don’t worry about coming this time around. Just make sure you remind your kerb friends they owe us.”

  Anya chuckled, “Oh, they definitely will.” She smirked, and her eyes gleamed as her mind began to imagine what she planned to gain from this.

  Noa leaned in, and they both embraced each other tightly before withdrawing.

  “G’night Noakins.”

  “Nighty night Anyanas.” Noa smiled before she stepped back, and the door to her room slid shut automatically.

  After the usual post-going-out ritual, she started on the task given. Only then did she notice an icon beeping on her phone, which she quickly checked.

  Target Details

  Was the title, to which she promptly opened.

  “Who the…” She opened everything about the message without reading it, perplexed by who sent it. The message properties were scrubbed, leaving only a number from which it was allegedly sent.

  The number the message was supposedly assigned to returned with a null when she checked it on the software Hassan had allowed usage of. One that could go into the city authority records and skim through every registered communication device in the quad-city area, which stood at millions.

  She found only two identifiable properties: the one the sender left at the end of the message—an icon of a stereotypical insect that slowly rotated, but the insect had bunny ears attached to its head instead of antennas—and “With Compliments from Bones.”

  She scoffed and shook her head. ‘Damn diggers,’ her mind whispered as she finally opened the contents of the message.

  It scrolled up on her device, displaying the target’s name, location, and identifiable marks. Attachments were added to the target’s typical daily habits, frequented bars, eateries, and cafes, and usual visitation times.

  “Hmph,” she smiled softly, rather impressed at the detailed information whoever this digger was had provided.

  Using the information as a basis, she planned for kit loadout for the task Bones had assigned her, which took longer than she had hoped. Now equipped with the information she received, she added her plan of action, which she had always wanted to do. She finally succumbed to sleep much later than anticipated, with a satisfaction that quickly coaxed her to a deep rest.

  —-------------------------------------------------------------------

  The female voice on the communicator sniggered.

  “This is child’s play, old man…” she paused momentarily before continuing,

  “... which I suppose is appropriate.”

  Hassan chuckled, “Yes. Although, I’m told the digger Bones assigned to us was supposed to be at the top of her game. I’ve forwarded you her records. Have you checked on her?”

  “Indeed. Very impressive. I’d say she’s a bargain for what Bones charged. From her jobs, it seems her skills would mostly be self-thought - unorthodox but very efficient digging. Her parents were High Rise plat-heads but died in a motorway accident when she was ten—absconded to one of the best orphanages in the quad-city. Then… that’s it; no other early life records were found. And the ones we saw were hard copies of forms.”

  “Someone is eager to cover their life.”

  “Hmph, yes, well. This is good; it's rare to find a digger of this skill.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t know. Diggers are assigned to security; after recommendations from you, Intel types.”

  The female chuckled dryly in reply.

  “So, is Mistress Noa in yet? Is that why you called?”

  “Yes, did she attend breakfast?”

  “It's Noa; when does she attend breakfast?”

  Hassan grinned and nodded slowly - this was true.

  “She’s cutting it close. We have weapon drills in an hour, and I was already prepped to go through her plan.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. She may have her timing, but she’s reliable… Mistress Anya was at breakfast, though; that girl sure does love her pancakes.”

  “I would love my pancakes too if they were made from the best all-natural flour money can buy, added with fresh fruits and cream that anyone but High Rise residents can only dream of.”

  “You’re not wrong there, old man.” His female counterpart on the communicator replied with a chuckle.

  Just then, there was a curt knock on his door.

  “A moment.” He sat up from his chair. His right hand moved, tapping in the air and bringing a new feed onto his eye-HUD. The camera covering his office door showed Noa patiently waiting, although her left foot was tapping furiously.

  “She’s here. Thanks.”

  “Didn’t do anything, but you’re welcome.”

  The line cut as Hassan minimized everything on his HUD.

  “Enter.”

  Noa stepped in and closed the door, standing at attention, and was about to say something.

  Hassan waved it away as he stood up.

  “Your timing needs work, Noa.” His familiar demeanor was gone. Training time meant even the daughters of his boss had to adhere strictly to schedules.

  Noa stood still. She had learned better than to try to explain herself.

  “Do you have the kit plan?”

  Noa nodded curtly before a hand rose, a tiny shard the size of a fingernail on her open palm, “I do.”

  Hassan stepped forward to pick it up, then slotted it into one of the slots at the nape of his neck.

  “You may sit.”

  “Thank you.”

  The information was laid out on his HUD. Before reading through it, he was surprised at the additional attachment she had included with the plan.

  He opened it and fought to subdue his pleasantly surprised reaction to it.

  “What’s this? Action plan?” He shot a look at Noa, who nodded.

  He skimmed through it and couldn’t help but smile. Inwardly, he was impressed. It was well thought out and laid out, with projected timing for each step.

  He leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

  “How did you come across the info needed for this?”

  She stifled a smirk, “Digger sent it.”

  “Oh?” His smile grew. His Intel contact wasn’t wrong. This was indeed impressive information retrieval. He reminded himself to send his old buddy a personal and generous thank you.

  “Says here you think that two persons are all you need?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “This seems like a three-person op, at the least.”

  “Digger will be monitoring environs and stay in background unless needed. I just need bodies to cover exit paths properly.”

  “And his guards?”

  Her lip curled up at the side,

  “No sweat. Rent a guard cheapos.”

  “Kill or subdue?”

  She shot him a look as if trying not to get annoyed. He almost smirked as he leaned back, waiting for a reply.

  “As the kit plan has lined out, knock out darts. If they somehow don’t sleep, kill.”

  He nodded as he went further into what Noa had planned.

  “Hmm, quite tight on the timings. And I don’t see much of a difference between the main plan and the contingencies.”

  Noa looked at him, and he noticed the face she made whenever she bit her tongue - which was very rare. Her green eyes seemed to say something as they lit up from catching the late morning sunlight through the windows of his office.

  “You may speak freely, Noa.”

  She nodded and got up, heading to the computer terminal on a desk next to his own.

  “Synced?” She looked at Hassan, wondering if the terminal was connected this his eye-HUD.

  “It auto-syncs when I come in here.”

  She nodded and produced another shard, slotting it into the computer before she slid on a pair of translucent gloves with fine dark lines etched throughout each. These allowed her hands to interface with the holographic screen, which loaded a layout plan onto it.

  “Let me explain.”

  Hassan nodded and swiveled his attention to the image. Noa slowly moved and manipulated the layout as she explained in detail.

  —---------------------------------------------------------------------

  During days when Noa didn’t have classes at the tertiary-level section of SEHIL, she participated in close combat and melee drills.

  It had become a tradition since she graduated high school. When she got bored of her fellow trainees—all employed with the Security Division of House Essedar— she would finish her day by sparring time with Hassan.

  Their sparring sessions were always a spectacle to behold. Although he stood half a foot taller than her and more prominent in size, she had always given him a run for the money. And today, it wasn’t much different.

  Trainees stood surrounding the sparring mat that they practiced on. Everyone in the Security Division who partook in the day’s training keenly observed Noa versus Hassan's sparring time.

  Here was their much respected, vaunted, and highly decorated Security Head, getting his ass handed to him by the daughter of their employer. An Essedar as skilled and quick as the stories of the founding fathers of the House so long ago.

  Today, though, the fight was less one-sided. Hassan had taken it upon himself to study her moves, learning what he could about her fighting style. Although he had taught and trained her since she was a child, her fighting style took on a different level of ferocity when she employed it. In addition, she had made personal changes in several of the moves, incorporating different schools of thought and martial training into a fluid mix.

  Due to his study of her moves, he wasn’t so quickly taken down today, much to her chagrin.

  “Keep your calm, Noa. Losing your head loses the fight.” He panted as the two of them circled each other. He had a fake blade in hand, while Noa held a similar blade in one hand, with a baton similar aesthetically to the one she used in combat, in another.

  Her lips twitched as her eyes studied him while they circled. Both wore training combat suits programmed to record every move, block, parry, and hit that a wearer made or was inflicted on.

  “I am calm,” she hissed softly with a smirk before moving in, attacking aggressively. Her blade hand and baton-equipped hand swiftly and fluidly moved in unison, drawing parries, blocks, and counters from Hassan at dizzying speed.

  The next move surprised everyone as he suddenly found her up close to him, with her knee up forcefully between his legs, which seemed to send a collective gasp of pain throughout the onlookers before he crumbled to the floor with a groan.

  She pressed on, giving no respite as one foot stamped at the joint between his shoulder and his arm while she pressed her baton onto the other elbow, the edge of her fake blade pressed at his throat.

  “Yield?” She asked with a smirk.

  Hassan couldn't help himself, so he started a groaning chuckle and gave a slow nod.

  She smiled and got up, offering a hand to him, which he gladly took.

  “Good, Noa. Your opponent won’t yield from just a groin hit or ear-clap. No mercy, no quarter. Press until there’s a clear winner. ”

  Noa smiled; her eyes blinked as sweat slid down past them.

  “First reminder?” He asked as part of the drill still.

  “Don’t get cocky, if you think you know, you don’t.”

  He chuckled amusedly and nodded to Noa’s choice. “Very good. Get showered. After we've cleaned up, we’ll begin the day’s debrief.”