D.I.A.N.N.E. Ch. 05

Dressed, I exited the wardrobe and paused. How was I going to get to DP Games in time? I could get a cab; I could certainly afford it, now, with a five-hundred-dollar per week wage and no expenses, but then, Gloria had said she would pick me up any time I needed it. I still felt uneasy about the idea of having someone at my beck and call, but if the Company thought I was worth all this trouble, why not make use of it?

I'd left Gloria's card on the dresser next to my bed. It was still there when I checked. I turned it over between my fingers for a moment before dialling.

"Good evening, Mr. London," Gloria greeted me in that polished, English accent. "Would you like a pick-up?"

"Yes, please, Gloria," I replied. "As soon as possible." The memory of the way her uniform fit her body gave me a thrill of excitement. "I need to get to the Westside Mall as soon as possible." A quick check of my phone showed the time at just after eight. I'd need to get there before nine to beat close.

"Of course, Mr. London. I will be there in ten minutes."

Ten minutes? She must live close, or be nearby by chance, but somehow, I didn't think chance had much to do with it. "Thanks, Gloria. See you soon." I hung up the phone and then a thought hit me like a slap to the face. The uniform! Cursing, I hurriedly searched the wardrobe, flicking through hanging clothes and pulling drawers open, pawing through the neat piles of garments in the shelves. Nothing. I had a sinking feeling that the uniform had been thrown away with my other crappy clothes. Damn!

I looked in all the other rooms, but everything had been put away neatly by the movers, and the only thing that had come here from my old place was my consoles and PC. Everything else had been replaced. Great. Melinda was going to be pissed.

A knock on the door came, and I opened it to see Gloria standing there, again in a short jacket and tight business pants, but this time in black. Her glasses were tucked into her breast pocket, and her eyes, like large moonstones behind long lashes, assessed me carefully. "Is everything well, Mr. London?"

"Not really," I said. "I called you here to take me to the Mall so I could return my old work uniform, but I think it may have been disposed of with my other old clothes."

Gloria nodded confirmation. "That is true, Mr. London. I gave the orders myself. What is the problem?" She clasped her hands at her waist and patiently waited my answer.

"I was supposed to return it by tomorrow," I explained. "Or I'll have to pay for it."

Gloria blinked uncertainly. "And why is that a problem, Mr. London?"

Frowning, I opened my mouth to respond, then came up short. Why was it a problem? I had no expenses now and I got paid to do almost nothing. It was my turn to blink uncertainly. "I... Suppose it isn't, at that."

"Would you still like a ride to the mall, then, Mr. London?"

A grin split my face as an idea formed in my mind. "Yes, Gloria. I think I would. I'd like to make one stop first, though."

*

I felt good as I strolled into the Westside Mall, Gloria at my side. On a whim, I'd asked her if she'd like to accompany me, and she had agreed. We passed the gauntlet of stores, many of them closed at this hour, but a select few stayed open late, my old employer included.

Melinda was busy behind the counter when we entered the game store, counting receipts. There was nobody else around. She looked up, frowning for a moment before a light of recognition dawned behind those square glasses. Did I really look so different already? After only just a few days? She noticed Gloria, too, though anyone would; the woman was downright sexy even if she wasn't trying.

"Jake," Melinda said flatly as she stopped what she was doing. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming."

I stopped at the counter while Gloria began to stroll around the shop, perusing the shelves. Melinda was much less intimidating than I remembered. I met her gaze evenly, and was surprised when she dropped her eyes. She gathered herself quickly, however, and looked up at me firmly.

"I notice there is no uniform in your hand," she said.

"You are very perceptive," I replied. I tried to keep the acid out of my tone but didn't succeed. I'll admit, I was never the most motivated worker by a long way, but Melinda had made it her business to make my life miserable ever hour I worked under her.

She puffed up like an offended hen at my tone. "Then you'll be paying for it!" She grated.

I shrugged. "Okay. How much?" I pulled a fold of bills from my pocket and waved them back and forth. The stop I'd had Gloria make was to an ATM, where I'd withdrawn some of my first pay packet.

"You can't just-" she began, spluttering. "You don't pay for it here, idiot!"

"Is everything well, Mr. London?" Gloria asked as she approached. She gave Melinda a very direct look before turning back to me.

"Yes, Gloria," I said calmly. "Everything is fine."

"And who are you?" Melinda growled.

"I am Gloria," Gloria answered, as if that should explain everything.

"What, are you his sister or something?" Melinda shot back. "He can't take care of his own problems?" Her pale face was growing redder by the moment. I was going to have to do something before she exploded.

Gloria said nothing, just stared back coolly.

"Listen, Melinda," I began soothingly. Watching her off balance like this was hugely entertaining for me, but I didn't see the point in causing her an aneurism. "Just tell me how to pay for it and I will, okay? It's no problem."

"I'll be nearby if you need me, Mr. London," Gloria said smoothly before going back to her idle browsing.

Melinda stared after her, frowning. "Mr. London?" Suddenly her eyes popped. "Don't tell me she works for you?" Before I could reply, she threw a derisory laugh at me. "Alright, Jake, how much did you pay her? You wanted to come in and impress me with how well you're doing now, so you borrowed some nice clothes off someone and somehow got her to come here with you."

I waited for her tirade to end before shaking my head. "None of that is true, but you wouldn't believe me even if I told you, so how about you just tell me what I need to do to wrap things up here and we'll be done with it."

She made a scornful noise and started typing something on her computer. "I'm emailing head office now. They'll send you a bill." She shook her head disdainfully. "Once a loser, always a loser," she muttered under her breath.

Something inside me snapped. I slapped my hands down on the counter and she jumped. One hand went to her chest as she eyed me, startled. "What is wrong with your life that you have to make everyone else's miserable?" I growled. It wasn't just me that hated her. Everyone else I'd worked with here felt the same. "I was no model employee, but you have been nothing but a grumpy bitch since day one!"

She said nothing to defend herself. She seemed captured by my gaze like a deer in headlights, frozen still. In the corner of my eye, I noticed Gloria watching me, some plush toy held forgotten in her hand.

"Would it kill you to be nice sometimes?" I continued. "Who knows? You might even get more out of your staff if they feel like you actually give two shits about them. Send me the bloody bill," I finished. "I'll be glad to be done with you."

It was as I was turning away that I noticed a tear escape the corner of her eye and run down her cheek. Ah, Christ, I thought ruefully. I went too hard. Still, it's not like she didn't have it coming. While I was still deciding to leave or ask if she was okay, she spoke, almost in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," she breathed tremulously. She looked on the point of breaking down completely. I felt a moment of panic. What should I do? Melinda was saying sorry. Melinda.

"Uh, look," I said awkwardly. "It doesn't matter now, okay? I'm just gonna go. Sorry I got mad."

She shook her head, her black ponytail swinging behind her. "No, Jake, I'm really sorry, okay? You're right, I should be nicer. It's just... I have a lot going on, you know? I shouldn't take it out on you or anyone else." Not knowing what to say, I just stood there, more than a little flummoxed. Visibly, she gathered herself and wiped her eyes. "Don't worry about the uniform," she said. "I'll take care of it. I'll say it was damaged during work hours." She smiled, then, and for the first time I saw her as something other than a hard-nosed manager.

"Thanks," I said genuinely. "But I'm happy to pay. I honestly don't mind."

Her head swung again. "No, I got this. Least I can do." She took a deep breath. "I think I needed that, you know. Someone to stand up and tell me that. I've had it coming for a while, I think."

There was no need to confirm that last statement for her; that would just be mean at this point. Besides, her whole demeanour had changed, now. She seemed softer, more open. Something was different in her eyes, too. The way she was looking at me, up through her eyelashes like that, reminded me of Debbie. What on earth is happening?

"Maybe -- if you like -- we might be able to, you know, become friends?" Her eyes quickly flashed to Gloria, and she blushed. "Not like -- I mean, obviously just as friends."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. "Um, yeah," I replied quickly. "Sure."

"I apologise for before," Melinda said to Gloria, who put down the toy and came over. "I hope you can forgive me."

"Of course," Gloria said graciously. She flashed Melinda a brilliant smile. "Think nothing of it. And please do not feel you are imposing. Mr. London and I have a strictly professional relationship. I work for his uncle."

What a shame if has to be professional, a voice said in my head as I appreciated the way Gloria filled out that uniform. I was unsure if it was my voice, Indy's or Cloud's. Possibly all three. Clever of Gloria, to say the uncle thing. It explained her presence, and the 'Mr. London's.' It also implied that I had a wealthy uncle, so the clothes and the money were explained.

I considered Melinda for a moment. She was attractive, especially now that her edge had been knocked off. "How about I give you a call sometime?" I found myself saying.

Melinda smiled and nodded, and I decided that she was actually quite lovely. "That sounds great, Jake." She scribbled her number down on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I tucked it into my pocket, and after saying our goodbyes, Gloria and I left.

*

Back in the limo, I sat back and fingered the piece of paper with Melinda's number on it. I tried to figure out how she'd gone from angry and bitchy to warm and open in minutes. Did it have something to do with my recent developments in Dianne? Or had she already been on the verge of a shift in attitude and just needed the nudge? Would the shift even hold? Or would she be her old, cranky self by tomorrow? Impossible to know, and I was no psychologist.

My thoughts strayed to what might happen if I took her out on a date. Would we end up back at my place? What did she look like under that uniform? It wasn't a flattering outfit, but she definitely had some curves. Screw it, I said to myself. I'll call her day after tomorrow. See what happens. Content for now, I put Melinda out of my mind and looked out the window, watching the streets go by.

"You handled her well, Mr. London," Gloria said suddenly from the driver's seat. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"Thanks," I replied, not really convinced that that was the case at all. "I fluked it."

"I must admit, I did not care much for her at first, but I saw a different woman at the end of the conversation."

So, Gloria had recognised it, too. "She was a nightmare to work for," I confessed. "Though I suppose I was not exactly easy to manage."

Gloria's face, reflected in the rear-view mirror by the regular passing of streetlights, did not change, though I suspected she was thinking. "Some people," she said after a moment. "Just need a window of opportunity to really shine."

Whatever she meant by that was left undisclosed, and the rest of the trip was spent in silence until we pulled up at the entrance to 'The Executives.' I thanked Gloria as I exited the car, not waiting for her to come around and open it for me; I was more than capable of letting myself out. She was halfway to my door when I got out.

"Have a pleasant evening, Mr. London," she said politely. Was that a hint of a grin I could see at the corners of her mouth? Had I done something funny?

"Thanks, Gloria," I replied. "You, too."

Back in my apartment, I was suddenly taken by hunger. I fed myself and considered what do for the rest of the night. It was almost ten, but I felt alert and energised, and the idea of going to sleep -- even in the big bed that awaited me -- I felt like something more stimulating. I considered Tekken 3 again, but the notion was a brief one when I remembered the beating I'd taken last time -- and the pain that had followed as I recovered.

What about Diablo? A small voice asked in my head. It wasn't all bad, was it? I shuddered at the still-fresh memory of the Butcher, and what I'd done to him.

*The punishment fit his crimes,* Cloud said firmly in my head. *If your knowledge of him is anything to go by.*

I didn't even bother addressing the fact that Cloud -- and probably Indy -- had access to my memories. I think I was beyond caring. They were in my head, and that was that.

*So you enjoyed dishing out some pain to someone who deserved it, kid.* Indy said. *Don't worry so much. I enjoyed killing those Nazis. Better than leaving them to terrorise everyone else they come across.*

He had a point. And it was only a game. Just a game. Nothing more. Feeling a little better about my moral crisis, I went and changed into a tank top and a pair of loose, comfortable shorts before settling back on my couch. Before I even knew I'd made the decision, I was back in the MAP, asking Dianne to start up Diablo again.

Back in the cathedral, my new sword in hand, I found the challenge of the game to be drastically reduced. In fact, many monsters who saw the blade turned tail and ran for it. The smaller ones did, anyway. The bigger ones tried me, but I dispatched them with ease.

Down I went, further and further below the surface until the cathedral became rough-hewn caverns carved out of the rock, dark and dank and full of peril, though nothing slowed me. Further still, down to stone caves split by rivers of molten rock, stalactites and stalagmites reaching from ground and ceiling like pointed teeth.

I forgot about time. I forgot about being Jake London. I became the unnamed Warrior, revelling in the fight, the glory of battle, the call of the blood that sprayed as I clove corrupted flesh. I travelled to town regularly, each time being greeted with greater levels of respect from the townsfolk as I ventured back from deeper and deeper below the ground.

I dealt in greater and greater amounts of gold as I quested, and large sums changed hands at Griswold's forge and Adria's hut as I improved my gear, though nothing I found or bought came anywhere near the power of the sword Gillian had given me. Twice more I visited the buxom barmaid, and twice more she took me to her bed before I returned to my quests.

As for Adria, however, visiting her was nothing short of a pleasant surprise. Not the old crone I had thought her to be, she was a mature woman with a full figure beneath a long dark robe that hugged the contours of her body snugly. She'd been bent over a cauldron in her hut when I'd entered, and when those dark eyes fell on me, I knew I was in for a treat.

"Ah, so you must be the warrior everyone speaks of," she'd said to me as she straightened from the bubbling black kettle hanging over the small fire in the centre of her hut. She swayed across the room to stand in front me, looking me over with dark, intent eyes that reminded me a little of a raven's. There was something... predatory in them. "I hear you are giving the hordes of Hell something to fear."

The front of her robe was open above the waist, and the inner slopes of her pale, round breasts drew my eyes. "That's me," I'd replied. "Unless there's another warrior running around I haven't seen."

"No, only you," she'd said with a small smile. I wasn't sure if she was undressing me with those eyes or considering how I would look carved up in her cookpot. Either way, she excited me. I think I was starting to like danger.

She asked me for the Black Mushroom shortly after that, and when I'd returned with it, she opened her robe and invited me to her bed, an invitation I happily accepted.

When I pulled the headband off and finally returned to the real world, the living room was filled with early morning light, the sky outside turning from grey to orange. Tired but happy, I showered again and ate before falling into bed, smiling as I remembered Debbie was coming over tonight.

***

--TECHNOLOGICAL FACILITY, UNKNOWN LOCATION--

"It's the sex!" J exclaimed as she leaped up from her chair to point at the screen. Her tilted eyes were wide with excitement, and she flashed straight white teeth as she beamed at M. "It has to be! Look!" She flung a hand at the main display on the wall to point at Subject Twenty, who was once again engaged in vigorous intercourse, this time with a dark-haired, pale woman on the floor of a rough hut, of all things.

M stood up from his console and moved up beside J, frowning. "Look at his vitals," he observed. "They're spiking."

"Yes," J agreed as her eyes danced across the myriad data on display. Beside Twenty's display, graphs and readouts updated constantly as new information came through from the Dianne unit. "And they do that during sex, consistently. Much more so than any other stimulus."

"Huh," M grunted as he tried to translate the data he was seeing. J was much quicker at this than he; M's talents lay in other areas. Even so, he was beginning to see what she was talking about. "How about that. We haven't seen that before."

"It explains his leaps and bounds," J said, turning to M, her face still alight with exuberance. She always got like this when she solved a problem she'd been working on for some time. "And why none of the others have achieved his results."

M frowned. "But what is it about sex, specifically?" He watched as Twenty rolled off the woman and positioned her on all fours before settling onto his knees behind her. Twenty grinned as he gathered the woman's hair in one hand and slapped her ample bottom with the other. He'd certainly gained confidence quickly.

"That," J said in a sultry tone, "is yet to be determined." M felt cool fingers encircle his erection. He'd gotten hard watching the screen without even realising it. J began to do what she did better than anyone else M knew; surreptitiously stroke him while focusing on something else.

"Do you think this is the key for the others, too?" M asked. He glanced at J, but she was still transfixed on the screen and the data there, despite what her hand was doing to his cock.

"I'm not sure," she replied absently. "They certainly haven't shown the same enthusiasm for sexual adventures as Twenty. We will have to delve deeper into this." Her brown eyes found his for a moment. "We're going to need to pull the data for all subjects for correlation under these new parameters. It's a lot of work, but we need to eliminate the possibility that Twenty is an isolated case."

M nodded. "I'll get right to it." With some measure of regret, he made to move away, but J held him fast.

She was in front of him in a heartbeat, and then she was in his arms, her slender legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. "Not so fast," she told him firmly before kissing him. "Fuck me, first."