Twice, the man glanced back and huffed. From the nuances of his posture, she could tell he was annoyed. Most likely with her. Sadly, he still didn't wait for her to catch up. The priest simply charged on like he'd bash his way through the very air before him.
His manners were crude, but also novel. His scowl was something she didn't often experience. Her entire life was scripted to be as calm, relaxing, and non-intrusive as possible. OutLink didn't want their money-makers to be upset in the least. What they didn't consider was that this false utopia they'd designed was suffocating.
But he was walkingmuchtoo fast. Did no one tell him they weren't allowed physical exertion? Why was he in such a hurry? It would take less than an hour to reach RightGen. They had plenty of time, the trains were almost on schedule, and this was her only chance to get away from the Enclave. It was the only time she was allowed to enjoy her own thoughts, and she wanted to savor the moment.
***
"I need you beside me," Sin snapped.
Without lifting her head, the Ingénue walked faster, but still not fast enough. He reached out and grabbed her elbow, pulling her forward. She stumbled, most likely that expensive robecatching on her beaded slippers, but his hand kept her from falling.
At least she didn't complain.
RightGen wasn't far. They wouldn't even need to use a tram for this mission. Nope, he was planning to take her past the lower west side. Maybe letting her see what normal people lived like would give her a little humility. Dragging her down the busy sidewalk, the slums loomed to their left, only three levels below. In the shadows of the city around them, cheap apartments glowed with outdated neon. A few flickering holographic signs advertised the only escape most people could afford: alcohol and narcotics.
The bitch looked. There was no sympathy in her eyes, but at least shelooked. Halfway across the skywalk, he paused. "You know what life is like down there?"
She timidly lifted her eyes to his face. "Yes, Legate. It is well documented." They were grey, like pools of murky water, hiding the thoughts that lurked beneath.
"Yeah? Well, that's who I'm supposed to be serving. My job is to protect those who cannot help themselves. Those people don't live in luxury apartments. They don't have a few million creds worth of super processors implanted in their heads, and they sure as hell don't haveslippers."
"Our uniforms were chosen by the company, Legate," she mumbled, turning her eyes back to the concrete.
Sin sighed. It was pointless. He'd hoped God's purpose for these corporate security jobs might be to bring attention to those truly in need, but it didn't seem to be working. The rich didn't care about the poor. They assumed that if someone hadn't managed to succeed, it was due to a lack of trying. They couldn't understand how life had a way of happening to people—even hardworking ones—and success was as much about luck as it was effort.
Ever since Benedict had taken ill, Sin's assignments had started focusing on high-paying clients instead of culturally significant ones. Oh sure, the Legion had always performedsomecorporate protection—even the church had to pay its bills. Priests were also the only people allowed to kill without repercussion. Tyche had been founded as a religious colony, and that gave the Legion complete immunity from the government, as long as the appropriate vows had been taken. In other words, his actions were always deemed to be justified to civilians. It was worth every dime those corporate fucks paid.
And he hoped OutLink was paying dearly. If this girl turned out to be anything like his last client, he might turn in his wings himself. Standing outside the door while the Ambassador to the Andromeda sector got his rocks off was most certainlynotwhat the Legionnaires were for. He might be one hell of a bodyguard, but it was because he was the hand of God. He'd given up everything—well, nearly everything—to help those who could not help themselves.
But this assignment had come straight from the Praetor, not the usual priest in charge of those contracts. Benedict was probably trying to make a point, but damned if Sin could see it. The leader of the Legion typically took an interest in the broader purpose of the church, finding ways for God's hands to help the entire community rather than any specific individual or corporation. This was so far from the norm that it made Sin's head spin. It was either the old man's way of proving Sin's enhancements weren't the curse he thought, or an attempt to get Sin back in the game.
Probably the latter. Ever since the bombing, he'd only been assigned to clients who were unlikely to see more than a shove from a disgruntled employee. He couldn't remember the last time he'd pulled a weapon at anything other than a paper silhouette. He'd donethatmillions of times, though, to trainthe cybernetic fingers. Now, with them hidden under a glove, he could almost forget he hadn't been born with them.
Almost.
His issues wouldn't stop him from saving his angel, though. He'd vowed to guard his client—his assigned angel—with his life, and he was more than willing to do it, enhancements or not. If anything, the thought of living as half a man made taking a bullet even less terrifying.
They reached the doors of RightGen with barely a word spoken. This damned mental monkey was more like a rag doll than a girl, but he'd gotten her where she belonged, and now she could dump that brain of hers. At least she hadn't complained. Maybe she wanted to be around him as much as he wanted to be with her? Mutual loathing he could work with.
Relaxing her shoulders, the Ingénue glided toward the receptionist's desk. She didn't have to say a word, though. The cosmetically enhanced woman lifted a flawless finger and spoke under her breath. To his right, an office door opened.
"Ah, Ingénue," purred the man who came out. "Right this way. Have we had the pleasure of your services before?"
"Yes. I am familiar with your system," the girl said, each word perfectly enunciated.
"Good." He glanced at Sinclair. "And a Legate. Well met, Father."
"It's Brother," Sin corrected. "I do not take open confession. My vow is to serve God in other ways."
"I'm sure. If you'd care to follow me, we have a viewing room. I'm afraid our data transfer area and your weapons would not be compatible. Magnetic fields, you understand."
Sin chuckled. "I do. Thank you."
The man gestured for them to follow, and headed down the nearest hall. The girl looked up at him once, her eyes wide, but didn't say a word. Sin merely fell in beside her, observingand judging the people around them naturally as they passed. It wasn't far. When the executive pushed open a door, Sin was pleased to see a large window looking into the room beside it, the magnetic shielding obvious through the glass.
"This will do. Thank you." He forced a smile at the girl and stepped inside.
His job was to protect her. To do that he had to see her, not necessarily touch her. At least here, he wouldn't need to listen to them babble about technology he didn't give a shit about.
