Chartreuse || ONC 2022

▪︎ Digi Log 11 ▪︎

Big Sister's Chamber
The Red Palace, Neo-York
13:05

"...and my Spies caught sight of these two at an intersection," Oliver Twist reported. He held up a compact surveillance device and brandished an image on the screen of a man in samurai garb and a pale woman holding a large black umbrella. "They are not citizens. None of my Spies know when they arrived, or why. I believe we should investigate further. I don't like the look of them."

A narrow, skeletal figure emerged from behind a changing partition in a knee-length red silk tunic and flowing trousers to match. The green of her skin clashed horribly with the scarlet ensemble, and her sharp features grimaced as she gazed at her reflection in the vanity mirror.

"Abhorrent," she growled. "Red and green look atrocious together. Who would ever couple those colors?"

"I think you look quite lovely, Madam," Oliver said. His accent was thick, like all orphans of the lower class district of Micro-Bethnal from which he'd come. "Imposing yet elegant. Fitting attire for Big Sister."

"Big Sister is theatrical role. I must have the correct costume."

"Of course."

Big Sister, who was truly West the witch, sat down at her vanity and began combing her long black hair. She scowled at the sight of her green skin.

"Damn it all," West cursed. "I conquered a vast city. I command armies of androids and humans alike. I own the factory that generates the city's highest profit in a century. I am the sole proprietor from one end of this traveling metropolis to the other. What do I have to do to become a sorceress?"

Behind her, the reflection of Oliver shook his head, his unkempt blonde hair swishing beneath his newsboy cap. "I don't know, Madam West. All that magic poppycock is beyond me."

"It isn't magic!" West snapped. "It's science. Well...shall we say, a tidy combination of the two."

"As you say, Madam. But I'm just a pickpocket, and I'm afraid it's not for me to have an opinion."

She threw a glance over her shoulder at the petite boy. Years had passed, yet he was still a tiny child. Inconspicuous. Falsely innocuous. The perfect little spy. West smiled. The body mods she gave her cohorts were superior to all others, as they had the added power of her potions.

"You are far from just a pickpocket, Mr. Twist," she corrected him. "You are one of my most valuable allies. And creations."

"Then, regarding the intruders..?" he prompted.

"As of yet, we have no proof of nefarious intent," West said. "Technically, they are not 'intruders.' It is not illegal to enter Neo-York or any other city. But I leave it to your discretion. If you're concerned, by all means, investigate further."

Oliver grinned a wicked little grin. The expression was unsettling upon his cherub-like face. "Do I have formal permission to access the surveillance data of the Winged Monkeys?"

"Must you call them that?" West complained. She waved a jade hand. "But yes, yes, you have permission. Access away."

Oliver giggled, the sound sinister and disturbing. "Thank you, Madam. I'll take my leave. See you for the sweep."

Oliver had no sooner left than there was a knock on the door.

West turned her back to the doorway. "Who is it?" she asked sharply.

"It's Dorian, Madam West," replied a silky masculine voice.

"Oh," West sighed in relief. Apart from Oliver and the reluctant Major Tom, Dorian was the only person privy to her true identity. "Come in, then. What do you want?"

Striding into the room with all the confidence of a monarch, Dorian said, "I'd like another mirror in my room."

West sighed, exasperated. "You already have five. How vain are you?"

"Very vain," Dorian said without the slightest hint of shame. "As you well know. After all, it was you who modified me into this perpetual state of perfection."

He grinned, and West nearly swooned at the sight of his dimples and pristinely white teeth.

"Remember," West warned. "The more vain, and selfish, and destructive you are in this form, the more it fuels the ugliness of your alter ego. That's the trade-off for your body mods. All that negative energy must go somewhere."

"Of course," Dorian said, unbothered by her words. He leaned down so that he could meet her eye in the mirror, but immediately became distracted by his own appearance. "I love every modification you've made in me. The beautiful, and the hideous." He stroked a shiny lock of dark hair off of his smooth forehead and grinned again, winking at his reflection.

"Ugh," West scoffed. "You spend far too much time admiring your own face already. You don't need another mirror."

"I respectfully disagree." He smoothed his hand along his strong cheekbones and chiseled jaw as he continued to appraise himself in the looking glass.

"And why should I grant such a ridiculous request?" West asked with a sneer.

"Only one of my mirrors is full length," Dorian replied, as if such a vapid statement were an infallible argument of tenable significance. "I need another of full length to put behind it so that I can see my daily ensembles from all angles. I wouldn't want my slacks too tight in the rear, now would I?"

"On the contrary," West sniffed. "I believe you choose your slacks for that very reason."

"Relax, West," Dorian said, his voice brimming with laughter. "It was a joke. Too much stress and you'll give yourself a nose bleed. Or worse: wrinkles." He visibly shuddered. "No need to get your panties in a twist. I simply want another mirror."

West rounded on him. "What makes you think you have the slightest influence over the state of my panties?"

"Come now, what kind of question is that?" Dorian teased. "Have you seen my face? I have influence over everyone's panties." He blew his reflection a kiss.

West found she couldn't argue with that.

"Fine, what you will," she grumbled. "Have another mirror. Have a dozen more! But later. Now, we must get ready for the sweep."

"I know, I know," Dorian said. "Time to grace the grubby peasants with our majestic presence. Oh! That was almost poetry! Well done, me. I'm in top form today."

"I'm glad you're so pleased with yourself," West said. "It's such a rarity, after all."

"Look who's talking," Dorian retorted with a smirk.

"Get out," West ordered. "I have to finish getting ready, and you're driving me to distraction."

"Of course I am," Dorian purred. With a smug smile, he strode from the room.

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