Chapter 23
"So, run me through the plan again," Aris called from his perch by the computers.
She rolled her eyes, blending the makeup. "For fuck's sake. We've been over this a hundred times."
"Humor me. I'm not the one who's gotta pull this off."
Morrigan sighed, reaching for her eyeliner. "Fine. I board the maglev at 13:45. Ticket's under the name Elise Dubois."
"And your backstory?"
She carefully traced her lash line. "I'm a biotech exec heading to a conference in Nantes. Got the fake credentials to prove it."
Aris nodded, tapping away at his keyboard. "Good. What about the target?"
"Amin al-Khaliq boards at 14:03. Travel code A-9R2X," Morrigan moved on to her mascara, coating her lashes in inky black. "I'll be seated two rows behind him in the first-class cabin."
"And the poison?"
She gestured to a small vial on the dresser. "Arsenic, courtesy of your shady-ass contacts. I'll spike both our drinks once we're in the air."
Morrigan slipped into the white dress, smoothing it over her curves. She reached for a knife, its blade glinting in the light.
"Whoa, what's with the hardware?" Aris asked, eyebrows raised.
"Insurance," she replied, strapping the blade to her inner thigh. "In case shit goes sideways."
She grabbed another knife, sliding it into a hidden sheath at the small of her back. A third disappeared into her bra.
"You planning on taking out the whole train?"
Morrigan shot him a withering look. "Better to have and not need than need and not have."
"Hold up. Won't the train's security sensors pick up those knives? I thought we were going for subtle here."
Morrigan smirked, adjusting the strap of her dress. "Please. You think I'd be that sloppy? These babies are made of a carbon-polymer composite. Completely undetectable by standard scanners."
"Shit, where'd you get those? I could use a few myself."
"Sorry, trade secret. Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy."
Aris whistled low. "Damn, girl. You're full of surprises."
"You have no idea," Morrigan replied, slipping on a pair of heels. "Now, any last-minute intel I should know about?"
Aris swiveled back to his screens. "Nothing major. Al-Khaliq's security detail is standard - two bodyguards, both ex-military. They'll be seated across the aisle from him."
"Shouldn't be a problem. They'll be dead before they know what hit them."
"Just remember, we're aiming for subtlety here. No bloodbaths if you can help it."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll play nice. But if things go south, all bets are off."
She slipped on a pair of heels, checking her reflection one last time. The dress was elegant, hiding her arsenal perfectly.
"Remember," Aris said, "you've got a 30-minute window to get it done and get off that train. Any longer and you risk getting caught when they find the body."
Morrigan grabbed her purse. "I know. In and out, clean and quiet." She headed for the door, then paused. "And Aris? If I'm not back in two hours..."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll activate the contingency plan and scrub all traces of our involvement," he waved her off. "Just don't fuck it up, alright?"
"When have I ever?"
She left the building and slid into her hover car. "Station Montparnasse please," Morrigan commanded the AI.
"Destination confirmed. Estimated arrival: 12 minutes," the car's synthetic voice replied. "Good morning Ms. Devereux."
"Good morning."
The vehicle hummed to life, lifting off the ground and merging seamlessly into the air traffic. Morrigan gazed out the window, watching the blur of Paris' hypermodern skyline.
"Fuck me, I hate these things," she muttered, gripping the armrest as the car wove between other vehicles. Even after a century, she couldn't shake her distrust of AI drivers.
Morrigan leaned back in her seat. "AI, tune in to the news."
"Certainly, Ms. Devereux. Which network would you prefer?"
"Whatever's got the most up-to-date on geopolitics."
"Of course."
A holographic screen materialized in front of her, displaying a crisp image of a news anchor.
"...tensions continue to escalate between the United African Federation and the Pan-Asian Coalition," the anchor reported. "Sources claim that negotiations have stalled over disputed lunar mining rights."
Morrigan snorted. "Same old bullshit, different century."
The anchor continued, "In other news, the controversial neural-link bill has passed in the European Parliament, sparking protests across the continent. Critics argue that mandatory neural interfaces infringe on personal freedoms, while supporters claim it's necessary for public safety."
"Yeah, because giving the government direct access to our brains is totally safe," she muttered. "What could possibly go wrong?"
The news shifted to a story about a breakthrough in synthetic organ production. Morrigan half-listened, her mind already on the mission ahead.
She chuckled at the news. Synthetic organs? She'd seen countless medical "breakthroughs" come and go over the centuries. As a vampire, her body was its own self-sustaining miracle. No need for lab-grown organs when you're practically immortal. Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for the humans and their constant progress. They kept pushing forward, always adapting, while she remained frozen in time. But hey, at least she didn't have to worry about organ failure. Small victories, right?
As they neared the station, Morrigan did one last mental check of her gear. Poison, check. Knives, check. Fake credentials, check.
The car touched down on the landing pad atop Station Montparnasse. "We have arrived at your destination," the AI announced. "Have a pleasant day, Ms. Devereux."
"You too," Morrigan said, stepping out onto the platform. She straightened her dress and strode towards the station's entrance.
The place buzzed with activity, a sea of bodies rushing in every direction.
Holographic signs flashed overhead, advertising everything from instant neural downloads to the latest synth-caf blends. The air hummed with a thousand conversations in dozens of languages, both human and machine.
She went through the crowd, dodging a pack of teenagers with neon hair and subdermal LED implants. A businessman in a crisp graphene suit rushed past with his android assistant struggling to keep up.
"For fuck's sake, watch it," Morrigan hissed as a hoverboard nearly clipped her ankle.
She glanced around and saw a pair of mechs stood near the main entrance. Armed police officers patrolled in groups of two and three, hands resting on their pulse rifles.
It was like they were prepping for a war. These humans and their illusion of safety. She'd seen empires rise and fall, each generation thinking they'd cracked the code on security. But in the end, it was all just a show. A century from now, they'd have some new toys to play with, and the cycle would start all over again.
"Shit," she muttered, adjusting her route to avoid their line of sight.
Last thing she needed was some overzealous cop deciding to give her a more thorough scan.
Morrigan made her way to the VIP section, flashing a smile at the attendant. "Elise Dubois," she said, handing over her forged ticket. "First class to Nantes."
The attendant nodded, running the ticket through a scanner. "Of course, Ms. Dubois. If you'll just step this way for a routine security check."
She complied, spreading her arms as a blue light washed over her. She held her breath, praying the composite blades wouldn't trigger an alert.
After a moment, the scan completed with a soft chime. The attendant smiled. "All clear, Ms. Dubois. Please follow me to the VIP lounge. Your train will be departing from platform 3 in approximately 30 minutes."
Morrigan followed the attendant into the VIP lounge. As they entered, she immediately clocked the increased security presence. Large men in dark suits stood at strategic points around the room, constantly scanning.
"What's with all the muscle?" she asked the attendant. "Looks like you're expecting trouble."
The attendant gave a smile. "Oh, the extra security isn't from us, Ms. Dubois. Another VIP passenger requested additional protection for their journey."
"Who?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not in liberty to share that information."
"I see," Morrigan replied.
This had to be al-Khaliq's doing. She hadn't anticipated this level of security. It would make her job a hell of a lot harder.
She took a seat at the bar, ordering a drink to steady her nerves. As she sipped her synth-whiskey, Morrigan assessed the situation. The guards were obviously professionals, ex-military by the look of them. This mission just got a lot more complicated. She'd have to adapt her strategy on the fly.
Morrigan checked the time. Twenty minutes until boarding. She needed to get eyes on al-Khaliq, see what she was up against. As she scanned the room, she caught a glimpse of her target through the crowd.
Al-Khaliq sat in a corner booth, surrounded by a wall of security. He looked relaxed, sipping a drink and chatting with an associate. But Morrigan knew better. Men like him were never truly at ease.
She slipped into the bathroom, checking under the stalls for feet. Empty. She locked the door and fished out a small communicator from her purse.
"Aris, we've got a problem," she hissed.
"What's up?"
"Place is crawling with security. Al-Khaliq's got a fucking army with him."
"Shit. How many we talking?"
Morrigan leaned against the sink. "At least a dozen that I can see. All look ex-military. Our original plan's fucked."
"Alright, don't panic. We can work with this. What's your read on the situation?"
"No way I'm getting close enough to spike his drink. Too many eyes. We need a new approach."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, you're the genius here."
Aris went quiet for a moment. "Fuck, this is a problem. Can't you just beat the shit out of them?"
"No, it'll cause a lot of blood trail and the police will be at my ass in minutes."
"So? You're a vampire, you can take it."
"Are you fucking kidding me? You know those policemen have vaporizing guns with them at all times, right? They can literally destroy me anytime they want."
"Dude, I have nothing to give you here. I thought that this guy is going to have minimal security I swear it."
"Fuck, this means I'll have to do this the old fashion way."
"I'm afraid so."
Morrigan shoved the communicator into her purse and swept out of the bathroom. The maglev's low thrum vibrated through the floor, Paris is already shrinking in the distance. She scanned the first-class cabin, her enhanced senses picking up every detail. Two of al-Khaliq's goons loitered near the rear exit, engrossed in conversation.
"Fuck it," she muttered. "Time to improvise."
She sauntered toward them, hips swaying, a coy smile plastered on her face. One guard noticed her approach, eyebrow raised.
"Can I help you, miss?"
Morrigan batted her eyelashes. "Oh, I hope so. I'm having the most awful time with the drink service. I don't suppose you fine gentlemen could assist a lady in distress?"
The second guard turned. "Ma'am, we're not—"
She struck. Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around the first guard's wrist. With a savage twist, she snapped the man's bone and tendon causing him to howl in pain, caught off-guard by her inhuman strength.
His partner reacted on pure instinct and reached out for his concealed weapon. Before he was able to pull the trigger, Morrigan yanked the injured guard's sidearm and fired in one fluid motion. Three shots punctured the second guard's chest in rapid succession before he crumpled to the floor, bleeding to death.
Then, she jammed the muzzle against the first guard's temple.
"Wait—" begged the man.
But she didn't care and shot him execution style. Gray matter splattered the floor.
Alarms shrieked to life sending the passengers into paniked screams and shouts drowning out the maglev's hum.
"So much for the quiet approach," she growled, checking the gun's charge. "Guess we're doing this the messy way."
Suddenly, more security poured in, guns drawn and firing. Morrigan quickly ducked behind a nearby seat as bullets flew past her head.
"Fuck!" she spat, returning fire.
Through the panic, she spotted al-Khaliq being hustled towards a secure compartment. That's not good. She needed to reach him before he disappeared into some kind of panic room.
Morrigan swiftly emerged from her hiding spot, brandishing her pistol in a ready stance. One guard scrambled out of his cover and caught the sight of her approaching. He paniked and shouted, "Suppressing fire!"
Despite being peppered with bullets that stung like angry bees, Morrigan soldiered on and continued shooting, taking out both guards with fatal shots to their heads.
As the firefight ensued, people sought an escape route while others crouched behind seats, hands covering their heads.