Control (Argent POV) (Patreon)

(Lady Argent cane second in the poll, here is her POV just before the auction. Flirting gender neutral villain)

---

Lost Diablos. Underground. A former bomb shelter rebuilt into a base, not by my hand. Finders keepers, which is easy when you pick up a keycard from the ground and asks it where it belongs.

No, I lie. It's more complicated than that, but detective work never made for interesting memories. A necessary evil, staying alive means staying smart, and by now I'm very good at staying alive. With a little help from my friends.

"Hey," I say, to the still air and the silence that surrounds me. "Let's agree to be on our best behavior tonight?"

There's no answer. There never is. Just a feeling of anticipation and the faint stinging feeling of nettles and ants. Stripped down to the silver, my clothes are safe from collateral damage as I stretch my body, going through my daily workout. Not to build muscles this one, that's for show in the Rangers' Headquarters. This is for me. Control. Connection.

Right now, the control is simple. I'm well rested. Well fed. Any confused feelings are pushed to the side and buried in the ocean with my innocence. When I breathe, they breathe with me. The hunger and pain is a distant memory, half a pig bought at the butcher's for a fake barbecue have taken care of that for the evening. Wouldn't dare to do this unless I was as sated as I could be.

Pressing my hands against the concrete wall I focus on the texture, testing our connection. There's no nerves to my fingers, but I feel too much all the same. Every nanovore cell is a potential nerve cell, inside and out. I drag my fingers, dialing down the painful rough bumps until the texture is all that remains. No need for temperature right now. Feet feel the weight as always. Enough for balance, not enough to feel if someone stepped me on the foot. Not that there will be dancing, at least not of that sort.

"Just be patient, we'll have some fun eventually," I say because I can feel the nettle tingle of anticipation up my arms. "But until then I need everyone to be on their best behavior, okay?" 

Treating nanovores like toddlers probably are not the way to do it, but it's easier to think of them that way. No impulse control. Wanting everything right now. Prone to temper tantrums.

At least I'll be wearing armor, everything is easier when they're not exposed.

Getting into the Oryx suit is a struggle. It's stiff and unyielding, a far cry from the soft skinsuits I normally wear. How she ever managed to wear those boots without having the ability to form your feet into the needed shape I'll never know. It takes me five minutes of walking before I start getting the hang of them, and fifteen more of exercises to make sure I can handle fighting. Bad grip. The hooves have a smaller area than I'm used to. Sacrificing power for the aesthetic, no wonder she lost. 

[wide eyes.the girl goes down.red blooming rose in her chest.others run too late.smell of blood even from this distance.anger.fury.HUNGER.]

"No," I say, looking down at the horned helmet in my hands. "Simmer down. We don't DO that unless absolutely necessary." But will it be? I'm about to infiltrate an auction filled with villains. Would anybody really miss one or two of them?

No. Slippery slope. I won't.

Breathe. I can feel the pressure of the Oryx armor surrounding me. The pressure of the nanovores against my skin. Not stinging. Not itchy. Numb the connections. Numb my brain. I hit the wall as hard as I can. Seeing the concrete pulverized in a small crater brings me back in control. Everything works. Just the right amount of sensation not to overwhelm. Not more.

The helmet fits over my head as if it was made for me.

By the time I've reached the underground entrance to the Boulevard Casino I am already in character. The hooves works like high heels, getting the right rhythm adds authority and poise. There's no facial expressions in the helmet, but the horns add an exclamation mark to every movement of my head so I'll make do. 

"Oryx?" The guard recognizes me at least, which makes things simpler. "Didn't think you were still in town?"

"Came back recently," I say, glad that there's a vocal modulator in the helmet. "Retirement grew boring, thought I'd have some fun."

"You've got the money to do so?" He holds out his scanner, and I pull the chip out to present it. 

It's a decoy, holds about as much money I'd need to buy dinner. But the act of fumbling with it in my armored gloves lets me feel the warm puddle of circuitry that's in his hand and connect to it.

Simple. Read data. Show value. I don't have to worry about the first, as long as I can make sure the second shows what I want it to. How much would be enough? Ten million should be enough to get me through the door, and some odd numbers at the end for realism. The scanner beeps happily under my tickled attention, showing what I want it to. The guard nods, pleased with what he sees.

"Welcome to the Boulevard Casino Ms. Oryx. I hope you enjoy your stay."

"It's been a while," I say, leaning back slightly so I can look him in the face. "I plan to make the most of it." And then I'm through the door.

I walk slowly, body nearly on autopilot as I shift my eyes to see what kind of security they have. My little friends accommodate my every wish, revealing wiring and connections, leaving me to fit everything together. I can taste the hidden violence of lasers resting in their slots, the electric tingle of the floor, the quiet assurance of gas and fire-retardant foam. Focused around the entrance, but even as the corridor opens up into the beautiful underground vaults of the casino, I can feel the threats surround me.

Looks like I need to cut the power before I do anything. Now, what kind of backup do they have for that? I stop by the bar, flash my chip for a drink with a straw, which is not a childish affectation among villains with helmets. I don't plan to drink it, but it gives me a relaxed air as I prowl the walls, looking for the arteries.

Electrical wiring is always easy to find, lit up like a Christmas tree, just like Charge. They would have loved to be here. Would probably even have said yes if I asked. No questions asked. Too many notes taken. I'm better off alone, I've built too much trust to risk breaking it, even over something as important as this. Besides, I don't need help. I can do this.

There are layers of backups to the system, but only one for the power. If I turn off the main power grid, the backup will come on. I could have countered that by going further upstream to one of the junction points and blowing everything, but my reach is not that far. Could I turn off the main grid and convince the backup that it's still running?

Yes. I probably could. It needs to trigger, and it's always easier to stop something than to start it. Most of the time.

I can feel my skin crawling, and my little friends are restless. Am I infecting them with nerves? No, they are picking up something I don't, a threat here in a roomful of villains. What a laugh. Of course there are threats.

Should I go check out the merchandise? No, that might give something away, better to float here and take in the scene. Figure out who would be a problem and who I need to avoid. Will someone step in to stop me, or will the chaos be enough? If someone does... what should I do?

I lean against a wall, seeing nothing but red. All the options are bad. I could restore the security system. Trigger the defenses but with no friend or foe. People would be hurt. Die. I look over at the young woman manning one of the roulette tables. Who is she? Why is she working there? Does it matter? It would be she that gets hurt, not the hulking monstrosity in the armor that's betting on black. 

I can't do that. 

The alternative is worse. I can feel them on my body. Nearly dormant. Resting. they've been configured, and unless something triggers this is how they will behave. A second skin. No. A skin. I look at the woman wrapped in bandages walking past. That's me, isn't it? But better looking. How bad do I want this?

How badly do I want to be whole? To have a restful night's sleep without waking up in pain and viscera? To be able to relax? Let my hair down? Have hair? Have a smile, a nose, a face again? Be a human, instead of a disaster kept in check by a finger on the pause button?

Nobody here can stop me from taking what I want. Not really. There are a few sealed armors, but I could crack them. Word or claws. I could... if I wanted to be sure. Turn off the power. Turn off the cameras. Lock the doors down tight. All the ventilation. And then let go. Empty the room. Such a mystery. Where did everybody go? A roomful of villains and workers in the basement of a criminal casino. Disappeared into thin air.

My face burns beneath the mask.

I could. It would be easy. Easier than this. Easier than control. Most people here are bad. Could the others be collateral damage? I breathe and wonder what my voice would be like if I got my real tongue back. My throat. Would I even sound like me? Look like me? I don't even have pictures.

Was I even real?

I can't shake my head, the horns would reveal too much, so instead I resume my scanning of the walls and the systems they hide. Focus on that, not on emergency measures that will never, ever be used. Control. Bite down on the temptation and swallow it. I can't allow to daydream, they might try to make it a reality. 

Danger.

I hiss, there's a hand on me I did not see coming. A threat, but I allow myself to be pushed into a room away from most eyes except the ones hidden behind that familiar helmet.

"You," I hiss, pulling free, hands up to ward off attacks though they raise their own in mock surrender.  

"I don't want to fight," they say, nonchalantly looking around the room. Checking for eyes or ears? The fact that they're not fully focused on me makes me relax somewhat.

"Funny way of showing it." The grip hadn't hurt me, but if I had been Oryx it would have. Careless strength.

"I just wanted a chat, and considering your current persona, I thought you'd be happier in private… Argent." The last is whispered with an almost conspiratorial air and I can't stop the smile. Clever.

"I have to say," I reach up to run my claws over their helmet, curious if they'd let me. They do, which is interesting. Do they know I could lengthen my fingers easily through the cloves? Could grab that helmet in my hand and squeeze? Crack it like an egg? well, maybe not the last. It's robustly built and I still can't feel the systems controlling it because something's running interference. An AI too advanced and hostile for a friendly chat? "You've got balls for calling me out."

"You know I do," they retort, touching my helmet in return. "I like the new look."

"What do you want?" I ask instead of flirting back. This is neither the time nor the place. Too much is at stake for sexy banter.

"Don't tell me you're here for my sake?" They throw out a fishing line, dangling tempting bait I'm not sure I want to indulge in.

"Did you think I was here for you?" I can't hide the smile in my voice. So full of themselves. That makes everything easier. "You're not that important." Shots fired, now let's see what happens.

"Ouch." They place a hand on their chest, feigning a shot to the heart. "That would hurt if we weren't surrounded by so many other luminaries."

"You think I'm here to arrest someone?" I shouldn't have phrased that like a question, stupid mistake, will they pick it up?

"You're hardly the type for a fancy gathering." They tilt their head in judgment. "Though I suppose you're more dressed for a night out this time. The accident with your dress last time was…unfortunate."

"At least you left me your cape." Ah, they think they will make me lose my temper. Good try, but it will take more than that.

"It was probably better quality than the dress," they say in that distorted voice. I can pick up the mocking tone regardless.

"Asshole," I hiss. "What do you know about fashion anyway?"

"That you seldom get what you pay for." They laugh and I realize I played into their hands. Again. Got touchy.

"You'll have to repay me for that one day." I force myself to say it calmly, no anger in my voice. Just a quiet promise.

"I'm looking forward to it." Too intimate to be a threat. A promise perhaps?

"It won't count if you steal it, and trust me, I'll know." Would they buy me something for their own money? If I asked them too? "Do it right."

"We'll deal with that later; right now, I'm more interested in why you've shown up here in disguise." They dismiss my question, and I wonder if I got too close there. Almost touched something real. Something as dangerous for me as for them. No time for that now.

"I'm here on personal business," I say, cutting that discussion short. Can't allow myself to reveal anything. 

"I did think you had your own plans." They look at me, I can feel the eyes through the helmet. "The question is what those are."

"None of your damn business." I say it coldly, this discussion is dangerous. Can't allow to let my fun interfere with my mission.

"So, who else of your little friends are lurking around?" They lean closer, wary now. Trying to read me.

"I don't need them."

"Or you don't want them to know what you're up to?" Damn. They are too close to the truth again.

"If you say so." I shrug, projecting indifference. "Are you going to blackmail me about it?"

"They wouldn't believe me anyway," they scoff.

"True. Ortega has faith in their friends." The name slips out, and I look for a reaction. How close are they? The fight at the museum smelled like a grudge matched before I interfered.

"Friends are a liability." They shrug, showing as little as you do.

"Is that really how you feel?" I tilt my head, unsure if it's a lie or not.

"You don't?"

"No." Is that really true, though? Nobody knows the truth. If they did they would be. Liabilities.

"I thought you didn't lie?" Too clever.

"Where did you get that stupid idea?" I do my best to project offense. "You don't know me."

"You always seemed so straightforward."

"That's your problem." I don't let my relief show. Straightforward. Good. Keep thinking that.

"It is." They keep looking at me through the helmet. "You're turning into quite a big one."

"Likewise. But not one we have to deal with right now." I don't have time for this, and I certainly don't have the mindset. This is no time for whatever it is you two have.

"Truce, then? Is that what you're suggesting?" They pull back slightly, and I can read doubt from their stance.

"For now." That's all I can allow myself to think about. The clock is ticking.

"Oh really?" They make a sort of a half-blow, offering me their arm. "Then let me be your escort for the evening."

"That's not funny." I look at the arm, but try to read the intentions. What are they up to?

"It's not a joke." They retract the arm, an awkward move that leaves them looking like they're the one at disadvantage here.

"So you're serious?" I cross my arms, was that actually a genuine gesture? What the hell?

"I suppose it's a bit hard to tell beneath the helmet." They gesture helplessly to it.

"Then take it off," I suggest, stepping closer. They faltered, that means you've got the advantage now.

"Says the woman in the horned helmet." They lean in as well, matching your move "I like my anonymity."

"I wish I knew what that felt like." I run a finger along the edge of their helmet, as if I could map the face under there.

"True, silver skin is not the most discreet." There's a note of sympathy in their voice I can hear even through the distorters.

"Stop being nice," I snap, but I don't step back. "I don't need you to patronize me."

"I'm not patronizing you." It doesn't sound like a lie.

"I guess it's fine then." As much of a peace offering as I can give right now.

"Does that mean you accept my invitation?" They hold out their arm again, with an almost childish hopefulness I can't help find charming.

"I was here first." But I accept the arm, it's good enough camouflage for the time being. "Where to?"

"Where else," they say with a laugh, heading to the place I want to go. "The auction."