Chartreuse || ONC 2022

▪︎ Digi Log 16 ▪︎

Saito sprinted through an open doorway and slid to a halt. His stolen sword lay on the ground, unguarded. He crouched to retrieve it.

From across the room, Oliver giggled. It was an insidious, chilling sound.

"Hello, sir," the small boy said, a mischievous smile on his face. "Glad you found me. Now we can play."

Saito approached Oliver slowly, unsheathing his swords in dual elegant arcs, all the while keeping his eyes on the devious child. He looked small and frail, but Saito knew from many past experiences that it was never safe nor wise to judge a foe by appearance. The opponents that seemed the least threatening usually used that very fact to purposely lure their challenger into a false sense of security.

“Do you have no self respect?” Saito asked in a low voice. “Can you not think and act for yourself? Why do you obey a woman such as West?”

“Because she is my Madam,” Oliver replied simply. His tiny shoulders bobbed in a blasé shrug. “She saved me from the orphanage. She modified me to stay young and nimble forever. She made me the leader of her Junior Spies. I owe her everything. She orders, and I take action.”

“You are weak,” Saito informed him, walking closer still. “You remind me of the ninja who killed my parents. They had such potential but no will of their own. Just like you.”

Oliver’s eyebrow twitched. “Weak, am I? That's not very nice, sir. Why don’t I show you how weak I am?”

The challenge was clear, and Saito leapt high above the tiny boy with such speed that to an ordinary person it would have looked like he vanished.

Oliver was unfazed. He looked up, smiling at Saito, and made a shoving motion in the air with his hand. Saito immediately flew backward, hitting the wall behind him and falling to the floor with a thud.

"More body mods," Oliver giggled. "Gifts from Madam West."

Saito lifted his head from the floor and shook it side to side. “The boy is telekinetic,” he said, laughter in his voice as he got to his feet. From across the room, Oliver continued to smile at him. “This may be enjoyable after all.”

¤ ¤ ¤

Separated from her comrades in another wing of the palace, Ava-1 stood in a face-off with the beautiful countenance of Dorian Gray. He gazed at her from across the lengthy room, a smug smile on his perfect lips.

“Love the elevated ceilings. Is this your booby-trapped lair?” Ava-1 asked. “Do you have all kinds of dastardly plans for me?”

“Don’t be silly,” Dorian said with a careless wave of his hand. “I just thought we could spend a little time alone together before one of us dies. Oh, and just to clear up any confusion, that one will be you.”

Ava-1 laughed. She couldn’t help it. “A man has never beaten me in a fight,” she told him, her tone matter-of-fact. “And you don’t even appear to be armed. How, exactly, are you going to kill me?”

“I don’t need a weapon to be armed,” Dorian said. He teetered, obviously enjoying his own cryptic choice of words. “And I’m just curious: exactly what parts of your body are still flesh and blood?”

Ava-1 smirked. “I guess you’ll never know, will you? Stop stalling, Casanova. Or do you like it when the woman makes the first move?”

“Be my guest,” Dorian said, holding his arms wide. He closed his eyes and waited.

Well, this is definitely a trap, Ava-1 thought. Figures. But it doesn't matter. I have to see what he’s capable of.

Ava-1 hauled back with her left arm, thrusting her palm forward, aimed straight for Dorian’s chest. The electrical charge that shot from her hand was rapid and high voltage. As it connected with Dorian’s body half a second later, it fizzled and disappeared. As if it had been absorbed.