A Dangerous and Cunning Woman

by Ethan Johnson

  A panel slid open, revealing a set of uniform clothes. “Dress yourself,” said an electronic male voice. It was the voice she expected from the masked man. She groaned and forced herself up from the gleaming floor. She padded over to the uniform and put it on piece by piece. Once her shoes were on, the panel closed silently, leaving her in an empty room once more. She felt relieved to be dressed. She didn’t mind the sensation of being watched as much.

  Diane paced back and forth, wondering what she’d be put through next. Something in the floor hissed. She stepped out of the way in time to avoid a compartment that rose in the center of the room. A shining black costume was mounted in the center. She didn’t know what else to call it. It wasn’t metal. At least, it didn’t appear to be. It seemed like molded plastic. She drew near to it and inspected the armor without touching it.

  The electronic male voice filled the room. “You will wear this going forward.”

  Diane shook her head in bewilderment. “This isn’t regulation.”

  “Comply,” said the voice. It had a sharper edge. The room flashed red menacingly, then returned to normal. She nodded and felt around for a clue as to how the outfit should be worn. One of the walls glowed and displayed a schematic of how the pieces fit together. She removed the bottom half from the compartment and stepped into the right boot, then the left one. She pressed the calf pieces together and felt them snap in place. She applied the thigh parts next, followed by the midsection. She looked down at her feet. The armor was sleek and intimidating. She liked it. She wondered how she would explain it to Hendricks. She decided she didn’t care, as she was more interested in completing the ensemble.

  The chest and back plates were held together by nylon straps. She slipped them over her head and wormed her arms through the holes, grimacing as she contorted her left arm. She followed the directions on the glowing screen to activate the mechanism that pulled the plates together until they clicked. The arm pieces were the last to put on. She worked from the shoulders down, then slipped her hands into black gloves with protective plates on the back. Her forearms were encased in form-fitting armor. Her elbows were a weak point, as were the backs of her knees, but she didn’t care when she saw her image in the video monitor. She ran her gloved fingers over a piece of her breastplate that was stamped with PEMBROOK in silver lettering.

  The other half of her breastplate bore the insignia of the Panther division. She frowned as she failed to see anything on her armor that suggested she was a police officer. Diane patted her breastplate. “Where’s my badge?”

  The compartment sank into the floor, leaving Diane in the bare room once more. More importantly, she wondered, where was her weapon? Despite the armor’s sleek and impressive design, she wasn’t going to accomplish much if she couldn’t defend herself, she concluded.

  Another panel opened in the wall. A glossy black belt hung on a clear mount. She stepped over to it and enjoyed the clacking of her boots on the floor. Lyssa said she was a killing machine. So did Gabe. She felt she finally looked the part as she snapped the belt in place. She stepped back to admire herself in the monitor. She reached down and drew her sidearm. She pointed it at the monitor and grinned. “Very nice,” she said. She lowered her sidearm, then frowned. “Wait, you’re not going to give me a dorky helmet, are you?” She holstered her weapon.

  Another panel slid open, revealing a jet-black helmet. It seemed like something a motorcycle rider would wear, except it didn’t have a large clear visor. She shrugged and put it on, not thrilled at being cooped up in a smothering mask. As she feared, her peripheral vision was reduced to nearly zero. She tried to check her reflection in the glossy walls, but the heavy tint made it too difficult to pick out fine detail. She pulled the helmet off and set it back on its mount.

  “Forget this,” she said. “I need to see everything.”

  “Risk of critical head trauma 98.4 percent.”

  “Chances of me falling down a hole, 100 percent. I’ll be extra careful.”

  “You’ll be dead.”

  The panel slid shut. Another opened, revealing three operatives bearing gleaming black poles with sparking ends. Diane had never seen these weapons before, but the blue sparks that danced around the poles were all she needed to know about them. Direct contact was going to be bad. Maybe even fatal. She drew her sidearm and aimed at the lead operative. She pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “Live fire is not authorized for this demonstration.”

  Diane holstered her weapon and ducked in time to avoid the crackling staff. The second operative jabbed her in the ribs. Blue sparks shot in all directions, but to her surprise, nothing hurt. She grabbed the staff and jerked it away from him. She turned in time to block the third operative from hitting her in the temple. She ducked again as the lead operative took another swing at her. He struck the third operative, sending him backward onto the floor. Diane shoulder-tackled him into the nearest wall. She raised her staff to strike him when she felt herself paralyzed from the shoulders down. The lead operative slipped away from her and pried the sparking staff from her hands. He handed it back to the second operative and nodded.

  Diane turned her head, fearful of what they would do next. She considered keeping her back to them and taking whatever they dished out without seeing it coming, but she wanted to know what she’d be recovering—or dying—from. The dancing blue bolts ceased.

  “An exception has been granted for helmet use. It may be revoked at any time,” said the electronic voice.

  The operatives nodded and left the room. Diane’s paralysis was instantly cured. She lurched forward and threw her hands outward to brace herself. “What just happened?”

  “You have been tasked with an objective. You will succeed in achieving that objective. Any deviation from your mission is subject to corrective action.”

  Diane looked at her gloved hands. “You mean, you can control me, and make me do whatever you want?”

  “Or prevent actions,” the voice said matter-of-factly.

  “Way to trust me,” Diane said.

  “Trust is earned. You are dismissed. We are looking forward to your mission’s successful completion.”

  Diane squinted at the ceiling. “How will you know?”

  “Dismissed.”

  Diane sighed and walked toward the wall where the operatives had entered the room. Nothing happened. She waved her hands around, then felt the wall in hopes of triggering a mechanism that would open a secret door. Nothing happened.

  “If I’m dismissed, can I leave?”

  A white mist emanated from the center of her breastplate. She scrunched up her nose when she noticed it, then her sight went blurry. She dropped to one knee and coughed. “Can’t you just escort me out like normal people?”

  Everything went black. She never felt her body hit the floor.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Diane opened her eyes a little, not entirely sure where she would awaken next. She was shocked to find herself in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV bottle and a heart monitor. Lyssa leapt from her chair and rushed to Diane’s side. She gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze. The monitor gave a shrill beep. Lyssa relaxed her grip but didn’t let go.

  “Oh my god, you’re awake. Holy crap, sweetie, I thought I lost you.”

  Diane looked around, not understanding where she was, or why. “Where’s my armor?”

  Lyssa have her a confused look. “Huh? Oh, if only. Those cheap bastards! They send you out on these dangerous patrols in a dress shirt. It’s amazing you don’t have sixteen bullets in you. Or through you, more like.” Tears streamed down Lyssa’s cheeks.

  “How long was I out?”

  Lyssa wiped her cheek. “Out? You’ve been in a coma for weeks.”

  Diane put her free hand to her forehead. She gasped and clutched her afflicted shoulder. To her surprise, the metal cap she expected to find there was missing. She pulled her hospital gown aside and frowned at an angry red scar that tore through her shoulder. “
Not possible,” she moaned.

  “You don’t know, do you? Some asswipe shot you. They say you shot him back, but you lost a lot of blood. They had you in surgery for hours. Then you went into a coma. They wouldn’t let me see you until a few days ago. Sapphire told me everything.”

  “Sapphire? She moved out. She’s busy doing her own thing.”

  “She’s been down here every day, checking on you. They were only letting badged officers and family in. Since I’m neither of those, the closest I ever got was the waiting room downstairs.”

  Diane squeezed Lyssa’s hand. “You’re more than family to me. I would have told them to send you in.”

  “That’s sweet, but you were in no condition to put me on the guest list. Not that I—” Lyssa choked back a sob and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just had to work through some stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Oh, it’s stupid. I was sure you and Gabe were getting back together. I have major trust issues, you know that. When he walked in on us with those stupid flowers I wondered what you would have said if I wasn’t there. Would you be messaging me that you were busy with work, and some stuff had come up, and then I wouldn’t hear anything back until one day I’d see you two getting married and then I’d—”

  Diane squeezed Lyssa’s hand and snapped her out of her anxiety attack. “Hey, hey, give me a little credit, huh? Yes, I used to be with Gabe, but he’s not you. He’ll never be you.”

  Lyssa wiped her cheek again. “Promise?”

  “Cross my heart,” Diane said, and leaned forward to kiss her. Lyssa pressed down on her chest and shook her head.

  “Don’t move. I’ll come to you.” She bent over the bed and kissed Diane full on the lips.

  “I’ve got next,” said a male voice. Diane’s eyes widened in horror. Goodwin.

  Lyssa pulled away, and Diane was repulsed at the sight of Goodwin. Worse, Gabe was with him, along with Lee Harper. “I’ll pass,” she said.

  “You sure? Because I figure if you’re into hogs like her, you’ll give it away to pretty much anybody.” Goodwin turned to his buddies for approval. Gabe slipped him a low-five. Lee Harper chuckled nervously but didn’t say anything.

  Lyssa scowled at the men, then turned to Diane, who in turn received her unspoken message. “Apologize to my friend,” she said, attempting to sit up.

  “Just calling them like I see them,” Goodwin said with a smirk. “Can I have some? Maybe she just needs to find out what a real man tastes like, to get her off the ladies. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Depends on the ladies, you know? And how many of them I can get in the sack at the same time.” He grinned to either side and received Gabe’s tight-lipped approval.

  “I’ve got a sack for you. And a river,” Diane hissed.

  Goodwin feigned mock outrage. “Whoa, ease back on the threats, Pembrook, Jeez! We just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Well, Harper did. Hinajosa told me your girlfriend was up here riding you like a bucking bronco, but we got here too early for that. I can’t say I’m disappointed. Anyway, glad to see you’re alive and doing just about as well as you can.”

  “I’ll be doing lots better when I frag your ass,” Diane said.

  “Hear that, guys? You’re my witnesses. Not that Pembrook stands a chance against ole Gunslinger, huh?” He patted Lee Harper on the shoulder, who smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Who’s the man, Harp?”

  “You are,” he said quietly.

  “Aw, shucks, Harper. Keep it in your pants. Besides, Gabe here is the man of the hour. Nailed it, dude! I thought I was kidding with that ‘bulldyke’ stuff. Turns out I was psychic, or something. Drinks on me, what do you say?”

  “I say, let’s blow this joint and get loaded,” Gabe said, glaring at Diane.

  Goodwin ushered his friends out the door, then paused. “Want me to turn this off? You know, set the mood?” He waved his fingers over a panel of light switches.

  “Go to hell, Goodwin,” Diane said.

  “Just kidding,” he said airily. “One of these probably takes you off life support. There’s no sport in that.” He pulled the door closed behind him with a bang.

  Lyssa pulled away from Diane. “I… have to go.”

  Diane reached for her in vain. “No, stay with me.”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. Get your rest. Talk soon.” Lyssa gathered up her things and awkwardly exited the room. Diane sank into her hospital bed and exhaled. Nothing made any sense. The cap on her shoulder was gone. So was the body armor. Now, so was Lyssa. One thing was certain in that moment: she was more committed to Lyssa than ever, if only to spite Goodwin. She fixated on the ceiling and fantasized about all the ways she could kill him. Nothing was spectacular or gruesome enough. She wasn’t going anywhere, she reasoned. She had plenty of time to come up with the best revenge.

  Three days later, Diane was released from the hospital with orders to continue her bed rest. She was feeling restless, eager to get back into active duty. Her shoulder looked worse than it felt. The doctors stood firmly against it, on the grounds she had been comatose for nearly a month. They used words and phrases like “out of pocket” and “offline” most times, but Diane understood their hesitation. She just didn’t agree with it.

  After all, she reasoned, the doctors were there to help her get better. She felt better. She saw no point in sitting around in her dorm room when she could be out making the city safer. Her lip curled into a snarl at the thought of Goodwin being praised for doing the bare minimum. The city needed more. It needed her to be cleaning up the mess.

  Nevertheless, she accepted the verdict and thanked her driver for returning her to the former school where she lived. She looked up at the brick and concrete façade and sighed. She wondered what her life would be like if she had been allowed to stay in school, before being taken across the country by her father. She shook her head and put it out of her mind. She was doing okay, she determined. She had a good job. She was ready to earn it.

  She returned to her dorm room and pushed the door open. She was shocked to find the room had been completely emptied to the walls. She pulled the closet door aside. Empty. She looked in the rudimentary bathroom. It was empty. The toilet had run dry.

  “What the hell?” She spun around, trying to comprehend what had happened. Did they think she died? Had Goodwin and his buddies been screwing around with her stuff again? Was this a message she was no longer on the force? She pulled the door closed behind her and stormed off to the neighboring Panther Division building. Sergeant Parcells looked up from his tablet and smiled.

  “Hey, you’re back upright. You gave us quite a scare, there.” He turned to the nearest administrative officer. “See? I told you she wasn’t going anywhere.”

  Diane slapped her hand on the counter. “Well, my stuff did. Where is it? Where am I supposed to sleep? It’s hard to get the bed rest they ordered me to have without a bed.”

  Parcells was taken aback by this. “Oh, they didn’t tell you? Change of scenery.” He tapped away at the tablet. “Let’s see… lower floor, cell block F…” He frowned and swiped his finger across the screen as Diane felt a blend of terror and rage swelling up inside of her. They were confining her to another jail cell? What had she done to deserve it? Or, was this a different sort of punishment for not moving out to her own place?

  Parcells shook his head and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I was in the middle of something else. I didn’t want to forget what I was doing. Anyway, yeah, while you were out, there have been some changes on the housing front. I’m surprised nobody told you.”

  Diane cocked her head. “Nobody has told me much of anything. What’s going on?”

  “You’re getting an upgrade. They decided the cops shouldn’t have to worry about basic necessities like food or housing. They’re putting us up in the Cranston Towers. It’s just a one-bedroom, one bath, but, well, not to ruin the surprise, Pembrook, these places are frigging incredible. They gave us the top five floors. I’ve already got a
house and my wife doesn’t want to give it up, so I’m taking the bonus instead. But I’ve been up there, and those views will blow your mind. Too bad we have to get shot at and crap in return for it.”

  “My… own place.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. Here, they’ll send a car over for you. Another work perk.”

  Diane rubbed her forehead and nodded. “That’s… great.” She found a nearby bench and sat in a daze. She hadn’t heard of the Cranston Towers, but the idea of her own place was more than she could process. She couldn’t wait to tell Lyssa.

  The car arrived a few minutes later. The driver put her bag in the trunk and closed the door behind her once she was strapped in. The city came alive around her as the car glided toward her new place. She tried to pick out landmarks and get a feel for the neighborhood. New high-rises were sprouting up in all directions. Arbor Day had taken a select few out, but the building boom in its wake suggested otherwise. Diane noted the buildings seemed much closer together. A moment later, the car pulled up to a glass and steel building. A doorman stepped forward and pulled her door open. He gestured toward the main entrance with a bow. Diane accepted her bag from the driver and stepped into the grand lobby.

  Diane lacked context for this beyond her limited life experiences and what she had seen on Fortune and Destiny. If the Cotillion was a high-rise, she thought, this was what it would be like. The lobby was massive, done up in shiny marble with brass and emerald accents. A large counter to her right was staffed with polished people with trimmed haircuts or tight pony-tails, depending on gender. Everyone wore variants on the same uniform: sandy brown suits for the men, blazers and skirts for the ladies. A man waved her over to his workstation. His name plate sparkled under an array of spotlights: KERNAN. He had a tightly cropped goatee and glasses that seemed to hover over his nose.