Chapter Text
[Evelyn]
“A long night lies ahead of you, my dear. Hungry and terrible and violent storms. But brave through them and the brightest of rainbows awaits you at dawn, its glow pure gold…”
That was the local fortune-teller’s answer to a scrawny little girl looking up at her with too-bright, too-hopeful emerald eyes. A blind, poor old woman most made fun of in their shithole of a neighbourhood –senile hag, they said, who preferred to feed her ten cats instead of saving up for even the cheapest optics— yet still knocked on her door to find out if their partner was cheating on them.
Looking back now, Evelyn thinks she shouldn’t have wasted those thirty eddies on such a blatant con.
Then again, maybe her naïve, tiny self misinterpreted the palm-reading the way she wished when, in reality, the old lady isn’t so off the mark. Because if by ‘long night’ she meant a thousand long ass nights and by ‘rainbow’ she referred to the neons of the Dollhouse washing across Evelyn’s sore form… she is actually spot freaking on.
A sardonic smile curls humid, crimson-painted lips as she raises a lit cigarette to them, takes a long, slow drag. The smoke fills her lungs, casts a spell of serenity over her. Why am I even remembering this at four in the morning…?
She’s got nothing in common anymore with the girl from this memory except the color of their eyes. Well. No –maybe that’s a lie. The big dreams of back then have steadily matured into grand ambitions. She supposes this always had been –always will be— her fatal flaw.
Why she’s not satisfied with her life, with being one of the highest-paid Dolls in the entire city. It’s not enough for her to simply get by comfortably like this. At the end of the day, a whore is still a whore. And she wants more.
Wants to be more.
That is where NetWatch comes in. It’s one dangerous motherfucker of a devil-deal she’s cut here and Evelyn has no delusions about it. To deliver the Biochip they want, she will double-cross and backstab a lot of powerful people. At the end of the day, though, with the astronomical amount of eddies the organization is offering for this thing, it won’t matter.
If this heist succeeds, I can finally leave it all behind. Start anew. A new career, a new identity. A better life.
Evelyn can be anyone. An actress, perhaps, the way she’s always dreamed. Living in a secure apartment that overlooks the most beautiful parts of a different megacity, walking on red carpets, shooting for the big screens, putting on her best smile for the audience. Loved as a person, not a glorified bedroom toy.
And it all starts with Dexter DeShawn and his hand-picked team of mercs, the head of which she has asked to personally meet.
If there’s even a sliver of truth to that old woman’s words… then Evelyn has endured far too many stormy nights. She’s earned her fucking dawn already. She’s ready for her rays of gold.
—
—
“This merc of yours, V? What does she look like?” comes the cool inquiry.
“You’ll recognize her Miss Parker, no worries.” DeShawn’s bulky hologram gives a cryptic smile –or it could just be a glitch of the signal. “She ain’t a presence you call ‘subtle’…”
It would be a lie to say the answer doesn’t pique her interest. After the call, Evelyn gets right into digging up information on this mutual partner of theirs. A good mystery is always appreciated, but surprises are not. She likes to exercise full control in all aspects of her life that she can and that means being fully prepared for anything and anyone.
Word around the city has it that this ‘V’ is an up-and-coming star in the merc world. Next to nothing is known about her past –unsurprising— almost as if she’s popped into existence months ago, only to take up heists at the rate of a war machine. Whether she’s got something to prove or is just that starved for eddies, the drive serves Evelyn just as well.
In the fixer cycles, only good cred surrounds her name so far. DeShawn himself calls her trustworthy and reliable. Beautiful words, too good for such a rotten city. Evelyn listens but doesn’t take them to heart, as she also hears of other hushed whispers; those that paint V a psychopathic murderer who uses gigs as a stepping stone to increase her body count.
After all, Scavs and Maelstrom know her by a different nickname;
Wraith.
Satisfied with the intel at her disposal, Evelyn awaits at the blue-lit counter of Lizzie’s Bar, one long leg crossed over the other atop her stool, cheek elegantly resting on her gold-glad fingers, pointy chin angled at a slight degree towards the entrance. Beside her sits her best friend –and possibly the sweetest person she’s ever met, a lone rose that has somehow survived, untainted, in this swamp of a world— Judy, nursing a single Sex On The Beach for the better part of the evening.
Evelyn doesn’t tease her about her laughably low tolerance only because the barman, Mateo, is already on the case in her stead. There’s an ongoing bet between the three of them on how this 'big bad merc' will look, possibilities ranging from a chromed-out punk to an unpleasant, stone-cold 'borg of a woman.
A lot of people come and go. Plain. Irrelevant.
And then.
She comes in.
The door opens, closes and several jaws –Judy’s and Mateo’s included— drop to the floor. The wonder that walks in has a different air about her than the rest –a rough diamond behind a display case, one you may admire but cannot hope to touch— or maybe that’s just the effect of her neat, jet-black hair cascading down a porcelain face blessed by every god out there.
“Shit, look what just walked in…” Judy breathes. Mateo probably hasn’t gathered his bearings enough to reply yet.
But Evelyn? Evelyn reads the warning signs past the flare of the first impression. Pretty-girl’s hazel eyes are a little too sharp to be here for pleasure when they scan the room before settling on the counter. The ash-grey jacket she’s wearing atop that appreciably tight-fitting shirt is reinforced for possibly more than just riding a bike, her black pants loose enough to not hinder movement, seamlessly meeting combat boots…
“Sweetie, no.” Evelyn lays a soft hand on Judy’s tattooed bicep before she gets really into the wrong kind of person. “That’s our merc.”
Judy’s head snaps at her. “Come on, now…” She’s got the ‘this hottie look like a wraith to you?’ question mark over her head.
Appearances can be deceiving and Evelyn knows this too well. She makes a faint nod. Her friend clearly doesn’t believe her, until the moment Miss-I-Kill-With-My-Looks leans a forearm onto the counter and says:
“Hey there. Name’s V. I’m lookin’ for a woman by the name of Evelyn Parker. Know her?”
Judy suffers what is probably the biggest turn-off of her entire life and Evelyn resists the urge to raise her eyebrows ‘told you so’. It becomes clear things will be all biz from here on, so the techie grabs her drink with a huff and retreats to her antisocial little studio to prepare the key BrainDance for the heist. Evelyn unhurriedly uncrosses her legs and pushes off her stool, towards the newcomer.
“Two glasses, Mateo. I was waiting for this one.” she speaks, unabashedly running her gaze across the woman’s lean body, sizing up what she’s hiring. “V, hm? Knew it was you as soon as you walked in.”
The barman pours them Evelyn’s pre-ordered tequila and V’s eyes lock with hers for the first time. Green wins over the brown in them under these bright lights, she notes. There isn’t a single implant mark on her face –either she’s got high-end stuff under that darling skin or nothing at all— which is just how Evelyn likes them. Shame this one isn’t on the menu.
“Could have said hi sooner.” V replies simply, reaches for her glass, raises it towards her in a little toast and takes a generous sip. “Ah, Centzon. Only tequila I drink. Did your research, I see.”
Evelyn smiles, slow and liquid, the way she knows makes men –and many women— weak at the knees. She leans against the counter, body facing her straight on, close enough to V to hint at flirting rather than organizing a heist to anyone watching them. It doesn’t take much for her to put on the act when the company’s good-looking. Makes her job ten times easier.
“I wanted to get a good look at you first.” Evelyn replies, an added husk to her voice as she drags her golden-tipped fingers around the rim of her glass. No reaction. “And yes, I do like to know everything about the people I work with.”
Immediately, she takes note of two things. V’s posture isn’t as stiff near her as it was with Mateo –subconscious body language, strongly hints at her preferences— yet at the same time she doesn’t let her gaze lower to the deeply plunging neckline of her glittery dress once. Not even when Evelyn puts her chest forward on purpose and pretends to be looking at her drink. Okay, so we got a tougher nut to crack than the usual merc…
“May I ask why are we meetin’ here? Doesn’t seem like your preferred type of bar.” V comments, as if she pegs her for something way fancier.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Evelyn smiles. “You’ll see why soon enough; I know a place where ears won’t prick up to listen. Follow me to the lounge?” she says. “Mateo, if anyone asks, we’re not here.”
Evelyn leads the way past the guarded back doors to one of the secluded booths, where privacy is assured. It is a cozy little space, nicely scented, complete with a burgundy couch that looks much higher quality than it is and a female stripper hologram in front of it. The music of the club is dulled here, its bass barely a faint whisper on the skin. V walks ahead, takes a seat and waits for her to speak up.
Evelyn’s eyes narrow at her company, hidden behind the smoke of her cigarette. She’s seen –and done more than seen— many mercs in her years, both men and women. They all tend to look tougher than they are, spread themselves a little more open when sitting to occupy extra space. She doesn’t. She’s more the vigilant hound type than one that barks for effect.
Curious. And the way she held her drink earlier…
Evelyn files the information for a later date and takes a seat beside the woman, to discuss the detes of the heist. During their conversation, she weighs V’s character, whether she knows her stuff, the potential of her willing to cut DeShawn out of the deal for a bigger profit for them both. Wonders if seduction will help sweeten the offer when they get to that bridge.
“The chip I need you to steal is tucked away inside Konpeki Plaza, the hotel. You ever been?” Evelyn asks at some point.
V blinks at her, calm and collected. “That whole neighbourhood’s a tad above my price range.” Indeed, most normies wouldn’t even dream of setting foot inside that fortress of luxury.
Hm. Evelyn’s eyes don’t catch any distinct lying tells, but her intuition argues otherwise. Is that right...
“Miss Parker.” The slow way she says it, as if tasting the name on her tongue while having that ‘I know what the job is about and I’m not getting cold feet’ look, Evelyn won’t lie, is a little bit of a turn on. “Am I done being interrogated?”
“Of course.” A honeyed smile. “We can proceed.” Evelyn stands, waits for her company to do the same.
Before the door opens and they’re back in plain sight, however, she lays an elegant hand on V’s bicep, leans closer until her lips are hovering above the woman’s ear. In that brief second, she has the time to appreciate the half-head in height difference her boots give her over the merc, the scent of tuberose and amber that somehow suits her perfectly.
“Oh, and. That thing you said about Konpeki Plaza…?” Evelyn feels her muscles ever-so-slightly tense underneath her touch. Smirks.
Got you.
“I don’t believe you.”
V stares after her when she exits.
Victory tastes sweet, but Evelyn reminds herself she needs to be careful with this one. There’s no room for complicated fuck-ups in the job they’re about to undertake. Sadly, her brain is not the only thing calling the shots on her body.
The attractiveness of the merc makes her inner cat want to play. And that... never led to anything good.
—
—
“Can she hear me?” Evelyn whispers over Judy’s chair while V is absorbed into a test BrainDance.
The techie removes her BD headset, mutes the sound and looks up at her. Shakes her head no. “I’m setting her up –she can only hear me right now. Why?”
A smirk. “Take a picture, honey, it will last longer.” Evelyn bites her lip not to outright burst into chuckles at Judy’s expression. She knows this starstruck look; it’s the same one the BD editor had when they first met.
“Fuck off, Eve!” Aw, she’s blushing beat-red.
“You’re in for some interesting reactions when you boot her in my recorded BD.” Evelyn says. Judy raises an eyebrow as if to ask how she can see the future. Except it’s not hard to tell that; “Girl’s a raging lesbian.”
Judy stays silent for a moment, although it’s so obvious she’s dying to ask, “…are you sure?”
Is the sky blue and the grass green? Emerald eyes glint. “Judes…”
“Shut up, I don’t care, I don’t care…” she denies quickly and probably repeats it like a mantra in her head a few more hundred times.
Turns out, Evelyn’s an oracle when it comes to all things concerning one’s sexuality. It is good Judy scales the sensations of the BrainDance way down, because five minutes in and the mercenary looks like she’s going to throw up just from the feeling of Yorinobu Arasaka touching her ass.
After Evelyn sees her cringe for the tenth time, her body moves without thinking. She approaches V’s chair, lays a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, giving her an external stimuli to focus on.
“You okay in there?” Judy tries –fails— to keep the amusement out of her tone.
“Other than wanting to rinse myself with antiseptic and probably also gasoline… yeah. Preem.”
Evelyn laughs.
Judy attempts to fight back a chuckle she not-at-all-convincingly conceals with a cough. “I have it down to the lowest settings.” she states.
“Even zero is too high for this nightmare.” Still serious and deadpan, yet V sounds like she’d rather be shot at if it will spare her from this particular BrainDance. “I think I got the relic’s location. Judy, help me zoom in to this side of the room…”
In the meantime, Evelyn lowers her palm to V’s bare forearm –her skin is warm, almost too smooth for a merc— grips her with the golden accessories over her nails, enough to be felt. She’s not sure if she’s helping ground her, but if it’s one thing she understands, that is how God-awful –violating, sickening— it is to be touched by unwanted hands for a job. The Doll chip does most of the work during her meetings with clients, but it doesn’t erase everything. The before and after are her cross to bear. She hates to be the one putting another woman in a similar situation, no matter how washed out the sensory feedback is.
“Okay, got it. Pull me out asap, Judy.”
As soon as V is free of the simulation, she all but jumps out of her chair. Evelyn’s hand is left hovering in the air between them for a second before she lowers it back to her side. A strange thought grips her, right here, one that rarely ever occurs to her anymore; how the other woman will look at her now that she’s aware of –hell, that she has experienced— what she does for a living.
The merc meets her eyes no differently than before. An enigma, too refined to suit her line of work, imposing only in her composure, rather than bulk and cyberware.
“Thanks for that.” She says, motioning towards her arm. “It helped.”
“I didn’t mean to scratch you.”
Said scratches are thin red lines that will disappear overnight, no skin broken. Looking at them, Evelyn suppresses the dark part of her that appreciates the sight, an odd mark of ownership over something beautiful that isn’t even hers. Get your mind out of the gutter. She's here for biz and biz only.
V’s mouth curves into the slightest of upturns, so fleeting it could be her imagination –but Evelyn knows it’s not. “I don’t mind.” Except those three words combined with that little smile translate to something slightly different;
I liked it.
Evelyn bites the inside of her cheek –hard— to remain professional because none of the things on the tip of her tongue are even remotely so. Her head’s saying no –V’s not even her type, Evelyn has always had an eye for sleek Corpos— but the forbidden fruit is tempting, especially when it looks this tasty.
The job will decide your life, don’t fuck around. She holds the thought planted firmly in her head until the time comes to say their goodbyes. Evelyn takes V’s number to discuss the final detes at a later time and the mercenary nods goodnight.
The blue-haired woman returns to Judy’s studio to find the techie very pointedly rolling her eyes.
“‘Take a picture, it will last longer…’” she imitates in a haughty voice that’s supposed to match the Doll’s.
“Ha, ha, Judes.” A dismissive shake of her head as she walks to the nearby couch, crosses her legs, lights up a cigarette.
“Don’t even try to saunter your way out of this one. You call me out for staring, then what the fuck was that?” Judy motions with her finger around the space.
“What?” Evelyn shrugs innocently.
“‘Sorry for the scratches’ –bedroom eyes— ‘I don’t mind’.” Spoken in such a dramatic, oversexualized tone from someone as sweet and reclusive as her friend, Evelyn muses that she’s rubbed off on her in all the worst ways… and now it comes around to bite her in the ass.
She takes a pillow, aims, hits Judy’s head with it.
“Gonk.”
—
—
Another night down.
The skies are brooding, full of rainclouds, although the first drop hasn’t hit the ground yet. Sure looks like the floodgates of hell will open when it does, too.
Evelyn curses under her breath on her way out of Clouds and hastens her pace. The night breeze prickles every inch of skin her short, flimsy dress doesn’t cover, which means a lot of inches. She has left both her umbrella and her coat in her changing room –seriously, what was I thinking?— but she’s sure as fuck not going back to get them. Every second spent inside the Dollhouse is polluted. It’s poison.
Golden-tipped fingers fish her Agent out of her purse, search for the usual taxi services, but the screen glitches for the briefest of moments –she should have paid for that fucking upgrade after all but organizing the Biochip heist has left her desert-dry on funds— and she ends up calling… V. At two in the ungodly hours of the morning.
Shit. Evelyn doesn’t even have the time to cancel the call, because the woman answers in two seconds flat. Shit, shit.
“Miss Parker?” Her holo looks stutter-y, the sound too, like she’s on a speeding vehicle. Motorcycle, probably.
“Didn’t mean to call you, sorry if you’re in the middle of something. My Agent bugged out.” Evelyn explains, still inwardly cursing, ready to hang up.
“All good. Done with a quick job in Westbrook and I’m heading home for the night.” Comes the reply.
“Oh, you’re… close-by, actually.”
“Yeah? Where are you?” asks V. Evelyn bites her lip. She doesn’t want to say Clouds and instead speaks the name of one street down, as if the merc won’t put two and two together. “Hey, I’m super close. You need a ride anywhere?”
On one hand, she doesn’t want to ask this mercenary she only met yesterday for anything. On the other, they are planning to make it big together. Knowing more things about her can’t hurt and –loathe as she is to admit it— every eddie counts. V doesn’t seem the type to take advantage of women –the contrary, really— so there’s only one smart decision to be made.
“If you’re offering.”
“Send me your location, I’ll be there in a minute.”
As it turns out, however, even a minute in Night City can prove too long. Evelyn lights up a cigarette as she waits by the main road, where it should be relatively safe. Except, the devil’s out tonight to prove otherwise.
Despite the few cars coming and going and the fact she’s in plain sight, a lowlife catcalls her from the nearest alley. It’s too dark to make out details, until he begins to approach. His clothes are dirty, ragged like he’s narrowly escaped from the teeth of a rabid dog and the stench carried from him by the soft wind is a testament to the last time he got acquainted with water. It is the tattoo at his flesh-forearm –a Scav— and the crude cyberware visible at his right arm that keep her from swearing him off.
“Hiya, Doll.” He says and laughs at his own joke.
Ugh, she thinks. Scum. Evelyn ignores him to the best of her ability, yet keeps him locked at the corner of her vision. Be smart. V will be here any moment now…
“Somethin’ wrong with yer ears, whore? I asked, how much for a blowjob?” he comes ever nearer and she walks away at a brisk pace, knowing well that no car will stop to help her in this entire foul city.
In a flash, Evelyn senses danger overhead and the thug leaps right in front of her. The pavement caves from the impact. Heart leaping up to her throat, she stutters to balance on her high heels. Whatever chrome he’s wearing on his legs, it’s no joke. Neither is the gun he levels at her head.
“I’ll take one for free, then. Now, be a good bitch.”
Between dignity and survival, survival comes first. Evelyn’s hands are already on either side of her head, she widens her eyes at the man as if to say ‘we’ll do whatever you want’, summons a fake smile on her mouth.
“Calm down, handsome. Whatever you say.” She slips into the only role that will save her hide, the one she’s been living off of, since her late teens.
The sound of a motorcycle echoes down the street. Evelyn holds onto it for dear life, makes a show of her descent on her knees, as slow as possible, and then—
Tires screech to a break. A dark phantom zooms in from the side, the heel of a boot planted firmly on the Scav’s cheek. He’s sent flying backwards, crashes onto the road with an audible thud. By the time Evelyn’s eyes have adjusted to what’s happening before them, the man is kissing dirt, coughing up a broken tooth and V is pulling her up by the hand.
So warm.
“Are you hurt?” she asks, voice steady, poised as ever.
Evelyn’s answer is cut by the movement she detects from their left. “Watch out!” she yells, feels a frigid rush of air as V pushes her away and—
“You sluts!”
A shot goes off in the night.
Evelyn’s every muscle jumps with the deafening boom, her body wired into hyperdrive fight or flight mode. V has vanished again. Light blue hair flies in front of her face as she swishes her head towards the Scav… and it is then she realizes just how the mercenary earned her second nickname.
Both of his arms are broken at the elbows, hanging limply, at awkward angles, at his sides. V dances behind him with the same bullet-speed from earlier, kicks one of his legs out from underneath him in a way that leaves behind a deeply haunting crack. Her arms lock around his neck in an inescapable headlock –he doesn’t even have time to scream— and Evelyn barely manages to shield her ears from the stomach-turning sound, this time.
She sees it, though. The whole thing. She sees how easily V twists his head, like it’s a toy she’s breaking and not a human being. She sees the wicked, morbid look in her eyes –eyes of a predator, flashing stark yellow with whatever tech lies behind them— when he hits the earth akin to a severed marionette. That is the furthest thing from a detached kill that can be.
That, Evelyn can without a doubt say… is delight.
V leans down, casually steps over his corpse to pick up his gun and walks over to her. Her irises have gone back to their original hazel color, to their original coolness when they meet her own. But for all of three seconds, Evelyn doesn’t breathe. It doesn’t make sense –she’s been escorted to Yorinobu Arasaka by Adam Smasher himself, a cyborg that is terror incarnate— but fear often doesn’t. All she knows is, she doesn’t hear the first thing V tells her and her legs have frozen over.
“Miss Parker?”
Compose yourself, breathe in, breathe out. Come on. Evelyn is good at pulling the reigns on her emotions; she wills her body to obey. You’re good at acting. Act in control until you are.
“Evelyn… you’re hurt.” V’s voice grows quiet. Almost… soft.
It is such a stark antithesis to the wraith Evelyn witnessed less than a minute ago it gives her whiplash. That’s good, though, because it snaps her out of her haze. Emeralds blink. Then they follow the line of hazel, down to her leg and the hot, wet streak she can feel trailing there…
“Fuck.” Evelyn leans back against the nearest wall. There’s a gash on her thigh, just above the edge of her crimson boots. It’s not too big, doesn’t look deep either, although it sure is bleeding like a motherfucker. Adrenaline keeps her from feeling any pain for now but once it wears off…
“Shit. The bullet must have ricocheted.” V states. “It’s not deep, but you’ll need treatment.” A pause. “Is your place nearby?”
The thing is, Evelyn’s place is Judy’s place and after what she just saw she’s not sure it’s wise to bring the wolf into the sheep’s den. Sensing her hesitation, the merc shakes her head, then takes her wrist, swings her arm around her shoulders and walks them over to her motorcycle. The metal, spotless black, reflects the city’s lights around them and the glitter of Evelyn’s grey dress when she reaches it.
“My apartment’s close. That alright?” To her credit, V leaves her ample space to reject the offer.
Evelyn nods. It’s a one-way street; not like she has anywhere else to go, or the eddies to see an actual doctor at the moment. She’s stuck with this merc, wherever that leads her. Excluding V’s earlier brutality, all signs point that she’s alright, that she’s got a good head on her shoulders, even. Evelyn is rarely ever wrong in judging one’s character.
V unlocks her bike’s seat, grabs a bandage roll from within and ties it four times around her leg. Her motions are quick, precise, inspire the confidence of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. The end result feels a tad tight, but the Doll decides to trust the expert on the matter. She’s got talented fingers, that’s for certain—
Bad, bad thoughts. Don’t go there...
V looks at her for a moment… and then she does something utterly unexpected. The merc shrugs out of her jacket –Evelyn gets a very nice, close-up view of the skin-tight shirt underneath and the flex of her athletic shoulders as she does so— and holds it open for her to wear.
“Um.” Evelyn doesn’t tend to be surprised. She dislikes that she, oddly enough, likes it here. It makes for an odd mix that causes uncharacteristic hesitation on what to say next. “Not… sure it goes with my dress.”
“Time to set the next big fashion trend, then.” V shakes the jacket a little, as if that will make it more enticing.
She… okay, yes, she wins. Evelyn loses the second she huffs a smile and she slides her arms into the offered article with a roll of her eyes. It’s… not as heavy as it looks. The fabric isn’t soft, but it isn’t unpleasant, either. On the contrary, it feels secure and it’s so very warm. Smells good, too, like spices and amber balanced on the edge of a bloody knife, a subtle hint of fabric softener underneath.
V is already on the bike, revving it to life. “Need help climbing behind me?” she asks over her shoulder.
“Think I got it.”
Evelyn has to pull her already short dress even further up her thighs, but modesty is the last thing on her mind right now. Initial vestiges of pain grip her when she swings her injured leg over the seat and settles behind V. The suspension easily accommodates her weight and the merc’s strong back does an even better job at it.
As if everything else wasn’t enough, the sky starts to weep. Soft drops crash land around them, onto their joined forms.
“Hold on tight, we’re gonna go a bit fast.” The merc warns.
Evelyn wraps both arms around her waist and locks them there in a vice hold. She doesn’t terribly mind being pressed up against the woman like a second skin. The cut on her leg stings... until they get to the highway and V speeds up to two hundred kilometres per hour. Then, everything disappears.
All she feels is a rush.
—
—
V’s apartment is surprisingly… nice.
Impressive, even, considering a merc’s average paygrade. The place is not too big but feels spacey due to how spartan it is. Big windows provide a nice view of a busy street’s neon signs, the dim inner lights have a cosy reddish hue to them and above all nothing in Evelyn’s immediate vicinity screams ‘psycho’. If anything, it’s clean and organized, only a few things out of place.
Then the second surprise for Evelyn comes in the form of excited padding, black fur and big amber eyes, complete with an adorable little ‘woof!’
“You have a puppy…?” It’s a wonder she keeps her voice even, her composure iron, when all she wants to do is swoop the dog into her arms and start playing with it like a kid in a playground.
“I have a disaster.” V huffs, to which the cutie bites her boot. “Nyx, stop!” In the seconds it takes to get her dog to stop demanding attention like a jealous girlfriend, V sends Evelyn a quick apology with her eyes. “May I help you to the couch?”
At first, a slight frown creases the Doll’s brow. Then she understands what the merc is asking; permission to touch her. A slow nod is given.
The woman comes up to her side, carefully wraps an arm around her waist and leads her to the cushions. Before guiding her to sit, she helps Evelyn out of her jacket. The very tips of her fingers brush her bare shoulders on the fabric’s way off and –it tingles. She’s not used to this kind of treatment unless it leads to sex, doesn’t know what to make of it now.
Evelyn hates the confusion. She keeps her mind on the ever-growing pain at her leg to bypass the tense feeling of being out of place.
Green eyes observe as the merc disappears for a moment to fetch the necessary medical supplies from the bathroom, during which she's left starting at V junior, aka her dog. The puppy’s tail moves back and forth from its spot a few ways off her feet, but it is quiet and cautious to approach. There’s certainly a thing to be said about a pet’s resemblance to their owner…
“Alright. Got everything.” V announces once she returns, kneeling in front of Evelyn’s legs with a first-aid kit in hand. “I’m gonna touch your thigh now.”
“Promises… promises…” Evelyn jokes through a clenched jaw.
V rolls her sexy eyes. Then her hands are rolling the top of Evelyn’s boot down, she’s leaning her weight on the Doll’s leg before the disinfectant is placed atop the wound and—
“AH! F—!” It’s a good thing the merc holds her down, because Evelyn feels like she’s being stabbed with a hundred needles at once. Her automatic reaction was to knee V in the face. Would be such a damn shame, too, because she’s got the prettiest face in the world. Either that or the blood loss is talking. Maybe little bit of both.
“Shh, shh.” The merc coos with shocking gentleness. Her hand is hot as a brand on the outside of Evelyn’s leg. The little circle she runs with her thumb there is supposed to be relaxing… but ends up as downright arousing. “Hardest part is down. You took it like a champ.”
“Uh-huh.” Evelyn tries to breathe through the chaos but the motions on her thigh sure aren’t helping much in that regard. The more the sting of the disinfectant subsidies, the more her mind travels down a dangerous territory. Because V is practically between her legs and as much as she tries not to think about that she thinks about it that much harder—
Don’t. Don’t…
“Seriously. You took everything like a boss. Major respect.” V speaks while applying plastic stitches on the injury. Her breath fans over Evelyn’s warmed skin oh-so-gently. This woman is determined to test her tonight and she’s not even doing it on purpose. “First time a gun went off near me I couldn’t move for an hour. You’re very strong.”
Evelyn stares hard at V’s face. She has been called many things by many people. Strong never was one of them. “I—”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” V meets her eyes.
And Evelyn can’t help but wonder how. How it’s possible for the woman taking such delicate care of a joytoy here to have had that look in her eyes before. That ice-cold, evil smile upon delivering a death sentence. Then again, she’d be a bit too perfect to be real if she didn’t have a fucked up side to her, born from an equally fucked up story to match the fucked up city they live in.
V finishes up by placing a waterproof film over the gash. She then gathers the bloody towel, med-kit, gauze and returns them to their spots. Evelyn is left alone, with nothing else to do than look at her cute dog again.
She leans a bit closer to the puppy. And… boops it on the nose. Nyx nudges closer to her hand. First sniffing her, then gradually opening up to little caresses. By the time V comes back to the living room, the furball is on the couch, nestled under her arm.
“No… damn… way.” The merc nearly drops the glass of water she’s bringing her. “What magic is this?”
“What?” Evelyn scratches under the puppy’s ear.
“She doesn’t let anyone but me touch her. Last time Jackie –my best choom— tried to pet her, she nearly bit his hand off!”
“It’s not what you do but how you do it.” Evelyn winks.
V levels her with a half-amused, half-flat look that has absolutely no right being that attractive as sits next to her, on the puppy’s side. Her hair’s a tad mussed from the earlier ride, but her fringe sits perfectly in place, almost elegantly, almost begging to be touched. Evelyn convinces herself she takes scientific interest in it, on what product keeps it frozen in time and space.
“Please stop seducing my dog.” V says.
“What about her owner?” No way I said that out loud.
But Evelyn would be lying to claim she doesn’t get a certain sense of empowerment and satisfaction by the way V bites her lower lip before changing the subject; “…there’s hot water in the shower if you want to take one while I make us something to eat.”
The idea is far too tempting to resist. Evelyn will never waste a chance to wash the atmosphere of Clouds off her skin. She nods, carefully removes her arm from around Nyx and allows her to move closer to the merc. Evelyn calculates how much weight her leg can support, stands with all the grace of a dancer. Before she heads for the bathroom, she throws one lingering look down, where the puppy has climbed onto V’s lap.
Lucky dog. She thinks.
The shower has adjustable glass, which Evelyn turns to a darker setting so she doesn’t flash her company the moment she walks in to leave her fresh clothes. Not that the thought doesn’t cross her mind. Lots of thoughts cross her mind about V. Although her job makes it rare for her to be drawn to another physically, it’s only natural now, she supposes. The woman is beautiful and just the right amount of dangerous, plus the forbidden element to it adds a whole new level of spice she’s not immune to.
The hot water feels amazing as it runs down her skin, but maybe she should have opted for a cold shower, instead. Maybe then she wouldn’t be fighting the urge to trail her hands a bit lower, get herself off here so she’s calmer around V, less likely to act on any irrational impulse the next time she gives one of her hotter smiles.
It’s up for debate why Evelyn decides against it and it’s too late to turn back when she steps out of the shower stall only to be hit by the rich scent of cheese coming from the kitchen. She dresses in the black cotton underwear, tank top and fleece pants V has left for her and makes her way towards the source of the mouth-watering smell.
V is already seated, the table set, a full plate of mac and cheese awaiting Evelyn.
“Don’t compare it to Konpeki Plaza’s fresh, but it’s edible, I promise.” V quips at her.
“Oh, you mean the one you’ve never tasted? I won’t.” Evelyn slowly drags her fork out of her lips. The mercenary’s eye flints to her mouth.
“The very same.” V replies.
Conversation –that is totally not bordering on flirting— flows a tad too easily between them. There are no awkward pauses, no uncomfortable silences. Who would have thought that she’d have this kind of chemistry with someone other than Judy? A glory-chasing, eddie-hungry mercenary, no less. The same one you paid to undertake the heist of your lives, so aren’t you getting a bit too cosy here…?
“So.” Evelyn begins once she’s done with her food, leans on her forearm that’s closer to V, inspecting. “That speed from earlier –pretty neat cyberware. Although I take it from your look you’re not a fan?”
V stares her in a way that says she’s knows what Evelyn’s doing but will answer anyway. “I’m not a fan of losing healthy limbs to replace them with hackable machinery, no.”
“A necessity in your case, then?” she prods.
The merc’s jaw works. An unreadable emotion –sadness, anger?— flashes through her eyes like a shooting star before it disappears. “I …won’t answer that.”
Evelyn recognizes the sore spot for what it is and drops the subject. It has served its purpose, given her one more crucial piece to a very intricate puzzle. “You know… you’re the oddest merc I’ve ever seen.”
A soft exhale of a smile. “And you the nosiest client I’ve ever met.”
Evelyn grins. A theory on the other woman’s past is already forming in her head, but she needs more clues to come to a concrete conclusion. In the meantime, she stands when V does to help carry their plates to the sink. If she leans a little closer to the merc’s side while she’s cleaning up, she blames it on the unsteadiness of her injured leg.
“Don’t do that. The heist is in two days.” V says it softly between them, an unspoken ‘please’ adrift somewhere in her tone.
“Don’t do what?” Evelyn shrugs a pale, bare shoulder.
The merc turns towards her, wet hands braced at the edge of the now-empty sink. “You’re acting like Nyx when she wants something.”
One could argue that Evelyn’s paws aren’t on her and she’s not sitting on her thigh… but she’s not entirely wrong. “Am I.”
“Yes. But you should go to bed.” The clock on the opposite wall reads three.
Without her heels on, Evelyn notes V is on equal level with her. They’re already close, enough to feel the soft heat emanating from the merc’s body. It would take nothing at all for her to raise a hand between them and trace it up her abs, her chest, her slender neck. Evelyn can’t quite put a finger on what this woman's got that’s just doing it for her so strongly.
“You’re not coming with?” she asks, eyelashes dropped low, half teasing and half suggesting. Her stomach grows a little tighter at the thought. If the woman caves and gives her a yes, there's no way they'll make it to the bed with how intensely they're staring at each other.
But V... shakes her head. “I’m taking a shower –and then the couch.” At least she’s licking her lips and her eyes look darker and it’s a relief that Evelyn isn’t the only one affected.
“Why?” Evelyn’s foot nudges the merc’s. Why do you resist when we both know you want me against this counter right now?
V gives her a long, hot look. “You know why.”
The temperature in the room rises and doesn’t drop when the mercenary steps around her, their arms brushing in the process, heading towards the bathroom. Evelyn takes a deep breath, searches for V’s puppy to keep her company in her absence only to find the cutie nestled up in her fluffy fur bed for the night. The Doll feels a warm smile stretch her lips at the sight.
V’s bed is not the greatest Evelyn’s ever been in –granted, that’s a tough competition to come out on top— but it’s comfortable in its own way. The blankets are soft against her skin and they smell like the other woman. Naturally, this births the question whether V herself would feel just as good against her, which makes her rub her thighs together to relieve the aching tension building at their apex.
Fuck…
It doesn’t help that V comes out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around her impressive form and wet hair, rummages her wardrobe for clothes and glances at Evelyn before she’s back in the bathroom to get dressed. Once ready, she opens another shelf and swings a blanket over her shoulder, steals a pillow from underneath Evelyn’s arm and settles on the couch.
Ten minutes pass. Then another ten. The sound of the rainstorm against the windows should be lulling, but neither of them is asleep. Judging by the slick heat in her panties putting all sorts of scenarios in Evelyn’s head, it’s clear she’s not going to sleep unless she takes care of her body’s demands first. There’s a certain magnetic pull between V and herself, has been since the second they met and saying ‘no’ to it so far has only resulted in edging herself out of her damn mind.
Screw it. Evelyn thinks and slides out of bed.
She carefully pads over to V. “You asleep?” A whisper.
“Trying. You're not making it easy.” The merc replies, eyes closed.
“Well, don’t let me stop you from trying, then.” Evelyn charmingly says, pushes the blanket out of the way and slides a long leg over the other woman’s thighs, settling herself atop them.
The guilty pleasure she takes from the action shoots straight to her already stimulated core. Pearly teeth dig into her lower lip. She’s really not used to craving sex. She’s not used to not knowing the preferences of the person she’s with, whether they’ll accept her advances in the first place. This is new and she ought to admit, more than intoxicating. Her thighs lock a little tighter around V when the merc’s hand comes to rest just over her knee.
“Evelyn...” Oh, the way she breathes her name could start fires. Evelyn leans over her, slowly shifts until they’re pressed chest to chest, foreheads brushing, mouths lingering close. “The heist…”
“Uh-huh.” She goes along with her urges, lets herself have a slight, experimental grind on V’s lower abs. Oh, shit…
Evelyn sucks in an uneven breath, but she’s not the first to let free a sound. Torn between a moan and a cute ‘mmh’, the merc makes the sexiest little thing she’s heard in possibly ever. It’s a slippery slope from there.
“This isn’t smart.” V tries again, hands framing Evelyn’s ribs, yet they’re endorsing her riding rather than stopping it. They both know she’s got more than enough strength to halt every motion of the Doll’s hips if she wants to.
“Of course it isn’t, baby but I can’t think with my brain when you make me this wet.” Evelyn husks.
The little hint of color that’s left in V’s eyes gets drowned in darkness. The merc tips her chin forward, seals their lips together and nothing so wrong has ever felt so right before. Evelyn immediately allows her entrance into her mouth, shudders at the sensation of the merc’s velvet tongue caressing her own. She kisses the same way she holds herself; calm, steady and unhurried, passionate like an inferno tucked away behind an ice wall.
V's hands slide around her back, underneath her top and up her sides, thumbs teasing under her breasts, occasionally brushing up over pebbled nipples. Evelyn has already started exploring skin way earlier with her nails, mapping tiny cuts and scars that criss-cross at the mercenary’s shoulders. They break apart to remove each other’s shirts, then V’s mouth latches on Evelyn’s neck, on the sensitive skin around the golden lines of her Doll chip. If her center wasn’t on liquid fire all night, it certainly is after that first suck.
“V.” She huffs into the woman's ear. Feels like she may burst if the merc doesn’t touch her lower because everything is too much and not enough at the same damn time. “Viktoria, I need your fingers in me.”
V pauses at the sound of her full name and Evelyn briefly wonders if she’s majorly fucked something up. Until the woman’s digits trail down her stomach, past the waistband of her pants and into her soaked underwear. The second her thumb drags against that sweet, burning bundle of nerves, the Doll’s whole body quakes. Then, almost by accident, two fingers slide into her walls and all kinds of moans start to slip out her mouth.
“You’re so beautiful, Evelyn.” V tells her and something other than her vagina flutters at her words. “Impossible to resist.” Evelyn grips her shoulders, pushes herself harder onto her hand. Just a few minutes in and she’s so close to an orgasm it’s almost embarrassing.
Before she can chase her release, Viktoria lifts them both into a sitting position, slides her fingers out of Evelyn, leaves her achingly empty. “What…” She begins to protest, until another kiss silences her. The merc guides her back, pushes down the last of her clothes, gently parts her legs and settles between them, trailing her pretty lips down Evelyn’s neck, her breast, her stomach...
The second V takes her into her mouth, her eyes nearly roll back into her skull. She has to bite her own hand to muffle her cries before the whole floor comes knocking on the door for a noise complaint. To be held as an equal and not a toy for sex is one thing, but to be treated like an output…
The orgasm hits Evelyn with the force of a tidal wave. Red nails dig into Viktoria’s shoulders to keep herself grounded and the merc’s free hand comes up to hold her waist while she rides her pleasure out for what feels like ages. She gently taps on the woman’s head when she comes down from her high. V looks up at her and smirks.
Smug bastard.
Evelyn slides a hand into her mussed hair –it’s as nice and soft as it looks— and pulls her up, only to reverse their positions. Two can play at this game and the merc isn’t the only one who knows how to put her smart tongue to good use. Evelyn kisses up the inside of her appreciably toned, wet-streaked thighs.
Let’s see what you like, Miss Perfect…
It's a miracle they escape that noise complaint.
—
—
Dawn finds her in Viktoria’s arms with an alarming lack of regrets.
Her merc looks beat even when she blinks her pretty eyes open, which Evelyn will admit is sorry for because it is almost entirely her fault. V checks the time –nine in the morning— lets out a soft groan and nestles her face deeper into her pillow. She seems in absolutely no hurry to start her day, but someone has other ideas. Namely, the dog that climbs onto the mattress and tries to squeeze between them.
Evelyn chuckles, forced to make room for Nyx. “Alright, V junior, you can have her back…”
“V ju— we are nothing alike.” Viktoria says, narrowing her eyelids at Evelyn. The puppy pushes its cheek against hers and does exactly the same. Two sets of near-identical eyes framed by dark hair and fur accordingly stare at her.
“Yeah… you know, I’m not even going to reply to that.” Evelyn nods as she slides out of bed, stretches in a way that gives V a great view of her body and smirks when she catches her staring.
They get dressed in comfortable silence, Evelyn back in her own clothes. Then they have coffee and breakfast together. It’s an illusion of something nice that won’t last through the hour –it can’t last— but the Doll lets herself have it despite how horribly it can backfire on her ass. It is a grim fact the chances everyone involved with this heist will make it out alive are slim. A number of things can go wrong and she’s now flirting with the idea of pain that could have been avoided.
Is it too much to hope that we both walk out of this as winners?
When everything is said and done, V offers her hand to help Evelyn climb onto her motorcycle again. It isn’t necessary, but she takes it anyway. Blue hair splays over the merc’s shoulder as she rests her cheek against it. Eyes closed, she stays that way for the whole drive, cocooned in V’s scent and the warmth of the sun’s rays on her bare back. Now that the merc is not driving like a kamikaze, the ride is soothing, tranquil.
Like a dream that must give way to dawn, the bike eventually comes to a smooth stop outside the apartment complex Evelyn and Judy rent in. The Doll bites the inside of her lip to face V with her usual charm after she dismounts, wills the rising fears that stir in her not to reach her smile.
“It’s been fun.” Is the most she can bring herself to say.
The mercenary leans forward on her forearms against the tank cover, holds her gaze captive for a long moment before she tips her chin in a soft nod. “Evelyn.” Damn it all, she’s never liked her name more than when V speaks it. “No good luck kiss before the grand heist?”
Well. Who is she to deny V her lucky charm? God knows they need all the fortune they can get.
Evelyn doesn’t even think to tease her. Instead, she crosses the distance between them in one big step, hands already fitting on the curve of the merc’s jawline and shoulder as their lips meet. Despite every touch exchanged between them the previous night, it is this stolen shard of time that scares Evelyn the most, this lingering kiss that feels like a promise. Their foreheads brush for a moment. Golden-tipped fingers trail down V’s arm before the two of them disentangle.
“Be careful, Viktoria.” Evelyn tells her.
“I’ll call you when we make it.” she replies.
But…
But.
Everything goes ass up.
Everything breaks.
Everything.
V never calls.
If she is dead, then she is the luckier between the two of them. Because Evelyn finds it isn’t death that is the ultimate punishment. It is living.