Progress. Sort of.
I added one last command string and sat back with a satisfied sigh. "There. All done, and better than new."
Yuri moved closer to examine my work, his massive frame blocking the fluorescent light and casting me in shadow. "How can we be certain you haven't compromised the system?"
I turned in my chair to face him, unable to resist. "Don't worry, I left myself a backdoor," I said with an exaggerated wink.
The effect was immediate and immensely satisfying. Yuri's entire body tensed, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, and I swore I could hear a low growl building in his chest.
I held up my hands. "That was a joke. Mostly."
The glare he gave me could have melted steel. I suppressed a laugh as Yuri exhaled deeply, his massive chest deflating like an angry balloon.
"If you're quite finished showing off..." he started, his voice controlled but tight.
But I wasn't fooled. Despite his irritation, I could see the calculations happening behind those cold eyes. Yuri was reassessing me, weighing the benefit of my skills against whatever threat he imagined I posed. The scales were tipping, if only slightly, in my favor.
That's right, Watchdog. I'm useful.
"The improvements you've made," he said carefully, "they will protect against O'Rourke?"
"They'll protect against O'Rourke, the CIA, and probably a few alien civilizations we haven't met yet," I replied, spinning lazily in my chair. "Your digital fortress is now actually a fortress, not a cardboard cutout with 'keep out' written in crayon."
He didn't appreciate my metaphor, judging by his deepening frown.
"Look," I said, standing up and stretching my cramped muscles, "your systems are secure. More secure than they've ever been. If O'Rourke wants to get in, he'll have to do it the old-fashioned way—with guns and explosives. The digital doors are locked, alarmed, and booby-trapped."
Yuri studied the monitors, his expression unreadable. "And you did all this because..."
"Because Nicolai asked me to?" I offered, then shrugged. "Or maybe I just hate seeing bad security. It offends my professional sensibilities."
Both true, technically. I wasn't about to tell him that I'd also thoroughly documented every weakness in their system in case I needed to escape someday. Trust only goes so far when you're living with apex predators who moonlight as criminals.
"For now," I added with a cheerful grin that made Yuri sigh, "I've done all I can. But I charge extra for personality upgrades, so you're stuck with your factory settings."
For just a second—so brief I almost missed it—Yuri's lip quirked upward at one corner. The ghost of what might have been a smile. If I hadn't been watching closely, I would have sworn I imagined it.
"Did you just almost smile? Should I check if hell froze over?" I asked, pressing my luck.
The almost-smile vanished immediately, replaced by his default scowl. "You've fulfilled your purpose for today. The boss will be pleased."
"High praise coming from you," I said, gathering my tools and wiping down the keyboards I'd used. "Next time, try 'thank you, Mishka, for saving our collective asses from digital annihilation.' It's more personable."
Yuri didn't respond, but his silence lacked the menace it had carried earlier. The watchdog was still watching, still suspicious, but now with a hint of something else—reluctant acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't entirely a liability.
I couldn't resist one final push. "You know, if you're really concerned about me having backdoor access, you could always just ask Nicolai to keep me locked in his room. For security purposes, of course."
Yuri's eye roll was so dramatic I was surprised he didn't strain something. "Enough."
He gestured toward the stairs with one massive hand, clearly done with both the conversation and my presence. The universal signal for 'get out before I change my mind about tolerating you.'
Fair enough. I'd pushed my luck further than I probably should have already. As I headed for the stairs, I felt a small surge of satisfaction. Not just for fixing their abysmal security system, but for cracking—even slightly—the stoic facade of Nicolai's watchdog.
Rome wasn't built in a day and Yuri wasn't going to become my bestie overnight, but the basement session had shifted something between us. Not trust, exactly—neither of us was that naïve—but something approaching a professional understanding.
In my world, where allies were scarce and enemies abundant, that counted as a win.
A small win, but still a win.
