The deal

The Capital City mission was headquartered in an apartment building that some kindly old man had donated to Soeck after a particularly long night of binge drinking followed by a crazed phone call to his lawyer.

You'd think it was street-level to look at it from the front. Arched doorways, tiled awnings, a round tower entrance, a cobblestone sidewalk with hanging crystal lanterns, and a kind of iron railing that periodically rearranged itself into the names of various sponsors and local corporate logos that kept this tiny mission afloat.

If, however, you stepped off the sidewalk into the street, you would find that you were actually standing on a road made of light, through which you could look down to the forty or so stories beneath you.

Gerald was terrified of the place. The other initiates had thought him mad the first time they had watched him tie a chain around his waist and anchor it to a streetlight as he crossed over to the staircase on the far side. That is, until they had seen the road flicker and die beneath him, causing him to fall and dangle like a fish on a hook.

As Gerald walked out of the front door, carrying a pot of soup, he glanced over his shoulder and caught a view of the other initiates, their faces pressed up against the glass in anticipation, various bets being made about what would befall him.

"Hello Dyson," a smug voice said inside his mind. It startled him so much that he fell backward, the soup spilling all over him. Cheers erupted from within the mission, and credit chips were given to the winners.

Gerald looked up to see Cha'Rolette. She was wearing a pair of stylish lace-up boots that crept up underneath a long tapered sundress, fitted tight at the waist to show off her taut midsection. She topped it off with a lacy half-jacket. Sleek platinum jewelry clung to her wrists and arms. The lavender color of the dress brought out her dazzling jade eyes and flattered the light green of her skin tone.

She looked like a picture of the most beautiful woman of all time had just stepped out into real life right in front of him. Accustomed to seeing her only in her academy uniform, seeing her like this kind of took his breath away, and he caught himself staring at her beauty.

"I heard that this little charity project of yours is having funding problems." She floated above him surrounded by an air of superiority.

"Yes, the new orphanage in particular is placing a great strain on our resources," he said as he stood up and shook his sopping wet robes.

She tucked a glowing ringlet back behind her ear. "Well, it just so happens that Ssykes Industries has a shipping center here in the city that is in desperate need of a few good tax deductions. I could be in a position to arrange for a generous donation."

"Well, that's very benevolent of..."

"If you let me take you to dinner."

Gerald's face paled a little when he realized what she was doing. His eyes darted about as he tried to find a way out of it, but he couldn't see one.

"You see, Dyson, you thought you were above being controlled, but now you see what an amateur you are at this game. Everyone has pressure points. All you have to do is find them and attack."

He turned his head away defiantly.

She cruelly twirled a ringlet with her finger. "Or you could let the orphanage close. It's up to you."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're reasserting your position of dominance. Very impressive. But, I'm afraid I'm really in no condition to go out in public at the moment."

With a wave of her fingers, all of the soup pulled itself away from his hair and robes and gathered together as a weightless blob in the air. The pot mended itself and the soup funneled back in, looking good as new.

Cha'Rolette gave a self-satisfied sniff and turned around. "Meet me at the O'Sterie Fran'Kasana in three hours," she said over her shoulder. Just for show, she gave her perfectly shaped bottom a sultry little wiggle as she floated away.

Gerald shook his head and glanced back at the mission windows. All the initiates were dumbfounded, their jaws hanging open.