Ventis wanders to the corner closest to us and taps a circle on the floor with her foot. Unexpectedly, a faint mechanical hum fills the air, and a control tower rises from the ground. She swipes her hand over the top of the rising pillar, making a keyboard and screen light up.
“Once we’ve established some baselines for you, I’ll place a few tactors on your body that will create a bio shield that controls the sensory feedback from not only your opponent, but the simulated environment as well,” Ventis continues to explain.
Curious, I reach out to touch the wall closest to me. Surprise filters through my bewilderment when I find it isn’t glass like I thought it was. It’s not even hard like a wall should be. There’s a give to the density of the clear panels, like they’re designed to absorb and distribute the force of a direct hit.
Fascinating.
“How does the simulator even the playing field between opponents?” I ask absently while I circle the controls Ventis is keying things into.
“It doesn’t make two opponents equal per se,” Ventis counters. “Your skill level and experience are still your own. All the simulator does is regulate the force used against one another and help mitigate any damage. The tactors will still mimic the appropriate pain drives and trigger other physical responses, there just won’t be any actual damage done to your body. I suppose theeven playing fieldis that you won’t die. Which is more than could be said if this were real.”
I roll my eyes at her dig, not letting it get to me. I’m harder to kill than she realizes, the last week alone has proven that.
“In other words, my opponent can still hit like a tank, but the pain will all be in my head?” I hedge.
Ventis considers my question for a beat and then nods. “More or less. Now, stand on theXand we’ll begin…please.” She tacks the last part on like it’s an afterthought, and I fight the urge to blow out an exasperated breath.
Nope, she’s definitely not on Team Ever.
I hesitate, looking around for a locker room. “Do I need to change into something else?”
“Do you have anything to change into?” she queries, tapping away at the console in front of her but offering no help beyond that.
I look over to see if Aeson is still in his nice clothes and find him punching a battle dummy that’s risen from the ground. Different sections of the dummy’s body light up, and Aeson aims a hit or a kick there based on the monotone instructions that seem to be coming from the dummy itself. That must be how the simulator determines the base level of force we’ll be using when we fight.
Aeson hasn’t changed into anything more fitting for sparring, but I note his clothes don’t seem to be restricting his movements in any way. The same cannot be said of mine. Then a thought occurs to me, and I look down at my fussy outfit with a mischievous smile.
Finding the clasp at the center of my corset, I unhook it. The stays automatically disengage and I pull the contraption off. I decide to keep my pants on, figuring the patches of armor Nixy said were sewn in will be helpful. Then I remove my silky, off-the-shoulder top and start to unlace my boots.
Back at Nixy’s, I gave my strapless bra the jump test, but I do it again now, twisting and darting around just to be sure everything stays where it’s supposed to. Although, if this fight figuratively goes tits up, I’m not above using a wardrobe malfunction in my favor.
“What are you doing?” Aeson demands, suddenly behind me when I turn around from tossing my discarded clothes out of the cube.
I barely manage to avoid slamming into him while also tamping down on a surprised gasp at his popping up out of nowhere. He moves very quietly for someone the size of a mountain.
“Getting ready to be scanned. What are you doing?” I ask innocently, stepping around him to go stand where Ventis indicates.
He hovers over me as I move, his big frame working to block me from the view of anyone else. His gaze is a sweeping threat as he looks around to ensure no one is watching.
“Why are you naked?” he demands, his hands fluttering at his sides as though he’s debating whether to use them to cover me up. His hard eyes slip slowly down my body, and I feel it like a warm caress against my skin. Heat settles low in my core, and when Aeson looks back up, I find the same heat banked in his gaze.
Leaning a little closer, I bark out a sultry laugh. “I’m hardly naked, Aeson. I can get naked if you need to see the difference though?”
A low, spine-tingling growl vibrates out of him, sounding simultaneously like a warning not to dare and an invitation to take this conversation elsewhere. I suppress a smile.
“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” he grumbles, pressing even closer to me until I feel his breath tickle down my cheek and sweep across my neck. A needy shiver rolls down my spine, and goose bumps scatter across my body.
I look up at him with a demure bat of my lashes and a playful tilt to my lips. “Because I can’t move in my clothes the way I need to. What’s the matter, Spare? Distracted by a little skin?”
His voice drops low enough to make me shiver. “Is that what you’re doing, Claws? Distracting me?”
Pressing up on my tiptoes, I skim my chest lightly against his, just enough that he can feel a hint of my hard nipples through my bra. I drop my voice to a whisper, and he leans down, hungry to capture every word. “No, I simply don’t want anything getting in the way of kicking your ass.”
At my words, the black of his pupils overtakes the bright blue of his irises. With a satisfied smirk, I drop back down and step back. Before he can say or do anything, a small drone separates from the console Ventis is standing at and flies toward us, stopping a few feet away where it hovers about chest high. Aeson is forced to back up to give the little machine room, and a bright beam of green light suddenly shoots out and starts sweeping up and down my body as the drone slowly rotates around me. When it finishes its circuit, the little floating ball zips away and nestles itself back into the console to upload its data.
“Fine,” Aeson snaps. “Two can play this game.”
With that promising declaration, he drags a finger down the side of his shirt. The movement must activate a hidden zipper, or maybe he uses a claw to slice right through the seam; either way, there’s now a split in the fabric where there wasn’t one before. He removes his shirt and then kicks off his boots so we’re both in matching stages of undress.
