Little Phoenix (The Census Book 1)

by Willow Dean

  Yup, it’s safe to say I’m feeling a tad smug at missing out on trying to walk through that minefield.

  I pull out onto the highway just as Mila manages to calm herself enough to force air back into her lungs. Wiping tears from her eyes, she starts speaking again, her amusement clear as day.

  “You guys are so gullible! I’m not gay. Women just don’t have boundaries like men do, that’s all. We live a little more on the wild side and are more comfortable with exploring certain things. You lot have all that,” she gestures up and down her body with her hand, “macho manliness in the way, preventing you from living on the line like we do. You should wait until there’s drink involved.”

  She giggles again and I chance a look back in the mirror to find her amber eyes staring right back at me mischievously. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” she purrs with a wink and a very suggestive smile.

  Oh fuck. What on earth have we let ourselves in for?!

  A lot that’s what.

  The hours pass quickly after that enlightening ride home, and before we know it, it’s time to find out exactly what Mila meant.

  It’s a hard sight to take, I can tell you that much. In more ways than one.

  Mila is family, but our restraints as mature males are set to be well and truly tested tonight. For both of our teams that is. Seems like neither team is exempt from experiencing their instinctual reactions tonight.

  Music blares across the sound system as we all hunker down in a booth to the side of the DJ station on the edge of the dance floor. Relaxing back into the plush leather seats, the eight of us keenly watch on as the girls dance and do their thing.

  The troublesome trio, as Reika dubs them, has at least one of them watching Reika at all times. They’re almost as protective of her as we are of Mila. Almost.

  Having been here nearly an hour now, the girls have been dancing just as long, and continue to loosen up with each drink they take. Whilst they started dancing quite…separately, they certainly aren’t anymore.

  We all amuse ourselves by watching the increasing number of men who leave the dance floor with a scowl on their face. A continuous stream of men of all ages attempt to hit on our dynamic duo and each time, they leave ignored and sorely disappointed as the girls turn their focuses on each other’s bodies.

  Of course, it’s pretty obvious that that’s their intention for the night and they seem to be getting a hell of a lot of amusement out of it. Hook line and sinker is their game. Look but you can’t touch.

  Their happiness is almost palpable as they fall about in giggles each time they ward off another potential suitor. Our work is truly going to be cut out for us when they start dating. I can already imagine the influx of protectiveness and worry that will undoubtedly come with it.

  If anyone ever hurts our girl...well, I don’t even want to think about that.

  Shit, the thought alone sends my protective instincts into overdrive. It almost makes me want to go out there and drag her back into the safety of our circle.

  “Our girls are scary,” Sam remarks casually, halting the growl that was working its way up my throat at the sight of another set of men getting too handsy.

  Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I realize what he just said. “Our girls?” I ask curiously, my eyebrow arching at his tone.

  “Hell yeah, man! Anyone who is a friend of Reika’s and saves this one’s grumpy ass,” he jibes, elbowing a disgruntled Larson, “is a friend of ours. Besides, Reika would have our balls if anything happened to Mila and we could’ve prevented it.” Sam visibly shudders as Jarrett and Larson pale.

  Well, would you look at that. Seems like Reika has them wrapped around her little finger. Much like Mila has us around hers, I suppose. The two of them are eerily similar, it’s actually quite scary. They’re most definitely a force to be reckoned with.

  Dainty fingers trailing across my shoulder brings me out of my musings, just before a perky blonde decides to sit herself in my lap. Without invitation. Instantly, my guard goes up as my grip on the beer bottle tightens.

  You can tell by the way she dresses that she thinks far too highly of herself. That, or she is just looking for any and all the attention she can get. Either way, it’s a huge turn off.

  Her skirt is that extra bit too short and the cut of her top dips just below her breastbone. The already obscene amount of skin that was showing increases as she arches her back and pushes her breasts out.

  She has so much makeup caked on that you could cut it with a knife. She thinks it makes her look more enticing, when it actually does the complete opposite. I have no idea why girls think that shit is attractive. They act like we won’t ever see them after a swim or shower. It’s ridiculous.

  I can barely make out her face in the darkness that the booth offers us. Not that I want to, as that was the whole reason why we chose this specific booth. It’s low key and inconspicuous, allowing us to enjoy the night without interruption. Or so we thought.

  Ignoring her and whatever disgusting drivel leaves her mouth, I lift my gaze across the table to Sam. Noticing he seems to be in a similar situation with a petite, similarly dressed brunette perched on his lap. Looking just as stricken and annoyed as I am, he finds my gaze and I know we share identical thoughts.

  No one out of our groups paid any attention to the women here tonight. With good reason. Most of us have fucked up pasts, not allowing much in the way of relationships. The intensive nature of our careers only adds to our reluctance of pursuing those fleeting notions.

  “Hey there cutie, how about a dance?” Her whiny, high-pitched voice grates on my already fraying nerves, turning my grip on the bottle murderous.

  “No thanks. Not interested,” I growl back, not having to feign the repulsion in my tone.

  “Aww, come on big guy. I bet you’re a good dancer.” Her hand walks it’s way down from my chest to my stomach and drops even lower, not showing any signs of stopping. Releasing the bottle, I snatch her wrist, stopping her from descending any further.

  She says something, which I ignore, as Sam grabs my attention and inclines his head towards our girls who are both peering over at our booth. They start signaling for us to come join them on the dance floor, shooting us encouraging smiles.

  Sam gives me a subtle nod and asks the brunette to dance. I follow along, doing the same with the blonde. Ignoring our earlier rejection, they take us up on our offer far too eagerly, jumping up and pulling us with them.

  I sigh to myself as they try to lead us by the hands away from our girls. Instead, I follow Sam’s lead and alter our direction to head straight towards our dynamic duo.

  Once we are in better lighting, it becomes apparent that they’re both from the all-girl cadet team at Census. They’ve tried on more than one occasion to wheedle their way into one or more of my brother's pants, so we’ve always stayed well away. Needless to say, I never bothered to learn their names.

  They resist our change in direction at first, before giving in and stopping us just short of Reika and Mila. Maneuvering themselves around us, they make sure that me and Sam face back towards the guys. Rolling my eyes at their pettiness, I catch the guys watching on expectantly.

  The blonde secures my hands around her waist and goes to drape her arms over my shoulders, just as a pair of soft hands turn me around. I’m spun so quickly that I don’t have time to react before a set of soft lips are on mine.

  Caught off guard, I startle and go to push whoever it is away before realizing it's Mila, who shoots me a cute wink. Catching on, I immediately relax.

  Wrapping one hand around her waist, I twist my other hand in her hair as she continues to keep a steady pressure on my lips. She closes her eyes and leans into me, yet doesn’t try to deepen the kiss any further.

  I have nothing but respect for our girl. Anyone else, false or not, would have used it as an excuse to ram their tongue down a man's throat. Not our Mila though.

  Pulling back, she turns us so that we face the girls and places
my hands on her hips. Acting as if she doesn’t even notice our little audience, she begins to grind her hips back into me to the beat of the music.

  On my right, I see Sam and Reika in the same position. Our girls are wickedly territorial and fuck if I don’t like it!

  A huff sounds as the blonde strides over to the other girl with a hair flick. Forcefully grabbing the brunette’s hand, they stomp off further into the club, wholly rejected.

  Sounds of hysterical laughter float over from the direction of our booth. The joy on my family’s faces has me smiling.

  Well, that was a lot of fun, and most definitely not what I’d expected from tonight. Especially from the girls little display earlier.

  “Told you our girls are scary, brother,” Sam shouts to me over the music.

  Mila and Reika share a look and give each other a high five, before turning to us and offering their hands.

  Taking Mila’s hands in mine I spin her and the four of us dance together, enjoying ourselves for a while longer. Even then, with the both of us present, there’s a constant stream of imbeciles trying to hit on them both.

  Having had enough of the constant attention, the dynamic duo put an abrupt stop to it when they take the pleasure in literally eating each other’s faces off. Right in the middle of the dance floor.

  Not going to lie. Although our relationships are purely platonic, watching them both go at it -tongues and all- sends surging heat to my manhood. Sam clearly feels it too as I catch him adjusting himself and swallowing thickly.

  Nudging him with my elbow, we head back over to the table and share a chuckle at the sight of the whole group transfixed on the round of tonsil hockey our girls are playing. All of them glassy eyed and shifting uncomfortably.

  “Well...I’m glad it’s not just us,” I comment dryly after clearing my throat and breaking everyone out of their reverie.

  Rick, ever the Alpha male, doesn’t like being called out and announces that we’re going home.

  None of us complain, even if we are enjoying the show they’re putting on. We do have the sims tomorrow after all.

  We’ve waited years for this opportunity, we can’t afford to fuck it up now.

  32 Mila

  “Alpha Race, your simulation will commence in ten minutes.”

  “Show time guys!” I holler, beaming at them. I’ve been super excited for this all week. Ready to finally put everything into practice.

  It also means I’m that one step closer to getting higher clearance. Meaning, I will finally be given access to everything that I need to gain more intel over my parents deaths.

  Unlike the other teams, we donned our sim suits as soon as we arrived. The fact that they look like gimp suits with pockets put me off at first, however the technology behind them intrigued me far too much for me to care or think about that any further. Made of a spandex like material, our suits are tight and black, highlighting every crevice and contour along the way.

  It’s a good thing I’m not self-conscious about my image or else this would suck ass!

  If I were even remotely interested in dating, this situation would make it very difficult to be around the guys. Hell, it was already! These suits really do leave nothing to the imagination.

  Glad that it’s not just me that’s being distracted, I snicker for the umpteenth time as I catch more than one of them with wandering eyes.

  They’re going to have to be careful. If their thoughts trail off any further, the whole world will know about it, and that would make for a very, very awkward situation.

  Each of the suits have a symbol of our team and a number on so we can be easily identified throughout the sim. The nanotech in our suits is also programmed to project an image of combat overalls on the exterior of the suit. Allowing us at least a modicum of decency. When it’s activated of course.

  The visor is the same flexible material as the suits and molds to my face, causing my nose to wrinkle at the faint musty smell. Made with a microporous material, it allows you to breathe freely whilst removing any small water particles. Meaning no condensation or overbearing humidity.

  Another thumbs up for advanced tech in my book!

  Some of the toys they have waiting for our missions are insane too. They are the epitome of every fellow nerd's wet dream and I cannot wait for our missions to start so we can check them out.

  After ensuring the visor fits, I remove it and place it in the middle of the table with the rest of the team’s visors so that I can listen to the brief. I missed the formal explanation of the sims so Jax gives me a quick run down.

  The sims are being held in a gigantic cave like space that resides underneath the base. My calves and thighs pulse in exhaustion just thinking about how many sets of stairs we had to traverse to get down here.

  Much like the training room, this one is similar in size. The only difference is, that instead of being decked to the nines with gym equipment, it’s filled with structures that can be moved and altered to create different layouts and obstacles.

  All are without ceilings so that the instructors can watch each team’s progress from seats in the rafters. With that being said, to maintain a semblance of reality and increase the level of immersion, holographic ceilings will appear once the sim starts.

  The entire space is coated in a similar material to the suits, allowing different textures to be projected along each surface. Each visor then solidifies these images and works alongside the suits autonomous feedback, to make the sim as realistic as possible.

  It’s pretty sweet!

  Every suit and weapon is also mapped to mark their individual positions and bullet trajectories, with each cadet being equipped with rubber blades and rubber bullets for the guns they are provided with.

  As part of the autonomous feedback function, the suits are lined with pressure sensors that are triggered upon contact with any sim provided weapon or ballistic. Relaying the signals to the server and back, the suits then deliver the appropriate level of pain associated with the impact.

  Meaning, a bullet hits like a bullet. You may not experience the damage, but you sure as hell will feel it.

  Because the suits are rather thin and provide no real armor, any hand to hand contact or attack with a weapon or object that isn’t calibrated to the suits will deal normal damage and pain. They aren’t iron man suits, you’ll sport a nasty bruise the next day if you get punched or thrown into a wall.

  Gathering around Jax and the multi-screen monitors that he’s currently immersed himself in, each one of us lurks over his shoulder, studying the data.

  Dissecting the information on screen, I stifle a snort. They really aren’t giving us much to go on. The only information we seem privy to is the aim of the mission, intel on the target organization, vague estimates of assailants and the blueprints of the compounds. The rest is on us to obtain.

  “The op is a hostage extraction. One hostage, situated in this room here,” Jax points to the position on screen. “The warehouse belongs to a biomedical firm. Unknown number of assailants, specializing in advanced tech and bio warfare. The firm is known predominantly for supplying the black market with bio-weapons ranging from sleeping gas to genetically altered pathogenic bombs.”

  Sheesh! These fuckers aren’t messing about.

  “Guarded with three-minute canine-handler patrols and watch towers, the fence is electrified and the only way in is through escort or retinal scan. We have no intel on what is waiting beyond those gates,” Jax finishes, staring at the screen thoughtfully.

  I’m sure we’re both probably thinking the same thing...this sim appears like it’s going to be a lot harder than we expected it to be.

  “Micah, Linc, circle the perimeters. I want numbers and frequency of patrols. Aus, gather intel on the number of watchtowers we’re up against and any blind spots, including patrol changes. Jax, identify any cameras and exploit them. Mila, you are to support Jax and map a route once we have enough intel. We are playing the slow game. Intel suggests they want info
rmation from the hostage, ergo, the hostage’s life is not in imminent danger at present. Safety is priority.”

  Nodding in unison, we finish our brief just as Alpha Race is called over to the training field. Donning our visors we head over to the starting area and the klaxon sounds. The lights blink out and the simulation begins.

  We wait for what seems like an age for the lights to pick up, except they don’t, prompting a night op. Awesome! That will make it so much easier for us to sneak around in.

  Woods spawn around us, causing the light to disappear nearly completely, coaxing everyone to take a minute to let their eyes adjust. Taking the opportunity to observe our surroundings, we don’t have long to wait before Rick signals for us to advance.

  Falling into formation, we walk for a minute or two before coming to a crop of trees. Rick and Aus are just about to step into a clearing when I call out in warning. “Stop!”

  They freeze in place. The twins heads swing back and forth looking to see where the enemy is as the others turn to me. Rick throws me a look of frustration and takes a step towards me. “Mila-”

  I cut him off with a raised hand before he can even start to form an argument. Time is not on our side and it won’t help our scores if we can’t work together as a team.

  “I’m not trying to demean your authority. Just stop for a second and take a good look around you,” I gesture. Each of them spin in different directions, trying to find any evidence for my outburst.

  It’s glaringly obvious when they find what I was alluding to. Their shoulders tense simultaneously as their heads slowly drop towards their feet where a very fine tripwire is held taut between two trees, situated less than five centimeters in front of them. It’s probably only a couple of millimeters thick and you can’t see it unless the moonlight shines on it at just the right angle.

  Rick slowly exhales. The tension in his face drains as his game face comes back into play. “Nice spot, M. Remain vigilant. Linc, Micah.”