Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Twenty

Mark didn’t know exactly where he’d heard it, but he’d heard once that a good suit should feel like armor when you wore it. A sort of, cultural throwback to the days when nobility and power were epitomized by knights or samurai in actual suits of armor. Those old suits of lamellar or steel weren’t just a means by which the nobles wearing them could protect themselves, they were also served as a way to show off both their wealth and importance.

With that in mind, it wasn’t too strange that most alien cultures followed similar principles when it came to high end fashion.

They just tended to be more literal about it.

“Hmmm, keep staring at me like that, and you’re going to make my ego swell,” Sabine teased from the seat opposite him, her French accent lilting with amusement as the streets of Krenehim rolled past the window behind her.

Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes, even if it was undeniably true that she looked good. The ample interior of the auto-limo they were using to reach this party they were going to gave her plenty of space in which to show off as she leaned back in her seat.

Admittedly, the flexible ceramic cuirass and shoulder pads were a little strange to his Terran sensibilities, positioned as they were over the off-white toga looking thing she wore underneath, but she made it work.

That wasn’t why he was staring though. No, most of his looks on the ride over had been borne of envy rather than lust.

Because while alien society seemed to agree with humanity that a good suit should look and feel like armor – that only seemed to be the case where women were concerned. When it came to males, well, they had very different opinions than much of humanity.

As evidenced by the fact that the ‘suit’ he’d been presented with about an hour ago felt less like armor and more like a full body latex condom.

Shifting in his seat, he winced at the way his pants and shirt seemed to cling to him with every movement, every motion uncomfortably tight. The v-neck running down the front of his sleeveless ‘shirt’ certainly didn’t help either, given the way the damn thing plunged nearly all the way to his navel. And the less said about the pants the better. The very obvious bulge in the front left so little to the imagination that he’d be worried about being charged for public indecency if he’d worn the thing back on Earth.

All in all, he wasn’t feeling very armored at all.

The fact that the thing was apparently the ‘equivalent’ of a cocktail dress and not an actual dress was just about the only thing about the outfit that he could be thankful for in regards to whole situation.

“Did I really need to wear this?” he grunted as he shifted again.

“I’m afraid it’s the local fashion,” Sabine said casually, her eyes twinkling as she adjusted her toga’s drape. “And I would not be so quick to dismiss it. Certainly, it seemed a bit strange to my sensibilities as well when I picked it up, but seeing you now, well, I can see the appeal.”

Her eyes roamed over him in a manner that he might have thought appreciative were it not for the almost clinical nature of the thing. Because the reality was that he was here as bait, and the outfit he’d been equipped with was part of that. If there was any appreciation in his ‘dates’ mind, it was very much secondary to her real goals.

Which was fine by him. He was here for his ‘one last job’ to aid humanity and then he was done – and with luck, he’d never have to see the French spy again.

And while he’d admit was a fair amount of animosity for a woman he’d considered himself quite fond of only a few weeks ago, but that’d been before she’d attempted to break into his apartment, before succeeding in convincing him to return to a role that had already seen him exiled from Earth.

While he might have agreed out of residual loyalty to his home and the tangential distaste for the Imperial Administration that came with it – the fact remained that once this was over, he’d be happy to see the back of the Earth’s many resistance cells and all the headaches that came with them.

He was a chef, not a freedom fighter.

“You’re not the one wearing the damn thing,” he muttered.

“No, I suppose not,” she chuckled.

“Seriously, the moment this is over, I’m throwing it into an incinerator,” Mark grumbled, rearranging himself as discreetly as he could - and wincing as the fabric pinched.

She sighed. “Well, I’ll not be asking for it back after we’re done tonight, so you can do with it as you will, Chéri. Though it would be a waste. I wasn’t lying when I said you look rather darling - and it wasn’t cheap. I’m a woman with expensive tastes and even I was a little taken aback at the price.”

Mark froze, as he resisted the urge to ask exactly how much his outfit cost. That would be gauche. No, instead he’d find for himself later when he shoved the thing on whatever the local equivalent to EBAY turned out to be.

Though that means I’ll have to live with the guilt of inflicting this walking torture rack cum fetish gear on some other guy, he thought with a hint of reluctance.

Fortunately, he didn’t have too long to dwell on any of his future crimes against his fellow males, as an overhead ping from the limo’s auto-navigation system that they were nearing the destination. He watched with interest as the limo glided to a stop at the back of a small line of similar vehicles moving up to the front gate of a mansion so large it made Kalia’s own abode look positively small by comparison.

As evidenced by the fact that were no less than four exos standing sentinel at the gates, their nine-foot frames bristling with enough firepower to shred a small army. Mark also spotted a few groups of local cops in white and red.

And he’d been a little surprised to learn that the city did indeed have police – who ostensibly answered to a ruling council and enforced actual laws despite what his first impressions of the place might have suggested.

Though further reading on the subject had informed him that they were less akin to public servants and more like corporate mercenaries, paid for by the dome’s ruling corporations – whose squabbling CEOs made up the ruling council.

Hell, if one had the funds, they could hire the ‘cops’ to act as private security when needed. Though they weren’t cheap – and as such, there presence here was as much a show of the wealth as the mansion they were currently guarding.

Turning his gaze from the trappings of the corporate dystopia in which he now lived, he stared out at the queue of vehicles stretched along the driveway of the mansion. Each mobile status symbol stopping in turn to disgorging guests in elaborate finery.

They were mostly Nighkru he noted, their luminescent tattoos showing even at this distance - but there were also plenty of other races on display.

Some, he couldn’t help but note also had the same tattoos he normally associated with Nighkru. As he watched, an elaborately dressed moth-woman flared out a pair of glowing wings as she stepped out of her limo, letting them breath for just a moment, before they once more folded back into chitinous sheathes.

Idly, he wondered if the presence of those tattoos had cultural implications or if they were purely a fashion choice? Not that he had long to dwell on it, as their own limo pulled to a stop in front of the doors.

“Show time.” Sabine smiled over at him.

“Yay,” Mark grunted sarcastically.

He didn’t fight though as she linked her arm with his and they stepped out of the vehicle and into the humid night air. Nearly instantly, a Nighkru servant approached, her rather subdued black uniform serving as something of a stark contrast to the opulence being displayed by the guests nearby.

Mark thought he saw her eyes widen a little at the sight of the two humans, but it came and went so fast he might have imagined it.

“Good evening ma’am and sir, may I have a name please?” she said as she glanced down at her data-pad.

“Sabine Moreau and guest,” Sabine replied airily.

The servant tapped her pad, nodded, and smiled. “Excellent, welcome Ms. Moreau. Lady Horelia has been expecting you. Please proceed to the main hall.”

“Great,” the French woman purred, tugging Mark along with her as she moved.

As he was dragged along though he noted the presence of two fully armored guards in the same black as the servant to the side of the main door, each clad in full armor and equipped with rather intimidating looking rifles slung across their chests.

As one turned towards him, there was a brief tingle across his exposed flesh as he felt the familiar sensation of a security scanner passing over him. He’d been exposed to enough of them on Earth to know the feeling rather intimately.

Well, I suppose it beats a pat down, he thought as they moved past the pair and into the main hall.

To his complete lack of surprise, the interior of the mansion was a wash of colors and noise as the ultra-wealthy of Krenheim mingled and socialized. The air was thick with exotic perfumes, foods and smoke from who knew what kind of cigarettes or cigars. Crystal chandeliers floated without wires overhead, while what were likely projectors in the walls projected an honest to god holographic rainbow river that floated over the crowd. Partygoers sat at dozens of tables, rife with games of one sort or another – though all likely involved considerable numbers of credit changing hands.

And throughout it all, waitstaff glided through with trays of bubbling, color-shifting drinks, somehow both omnipresent and yet entirely unnoticeable to the people they were serving – lest it was to grab refreshment.

…It wasn’t at all what he’d been anticipating in his mind. Truth be told, he’d been expecting something altogether more… aristocratic.

More of a country club vibe.

Instead, the interior felt more like the kind of party you’d see thrown by Hollywood starlets or Silicon Valley CEOs.

Very much a ‘new money’ vibe mixed with a Vegas casino.

Which I guess should have been obvious in retrospect, he thought as his gaze wandered around the room to take in his fellow partygoers – including many more aliens equipped with glowing tattoos.

He also, predictably, wasn’t the only guy wearing something ridiculous or hanging onto someone’s arm. He tried not to wince as he and Sabine strode past a Shil’vati in a sheer tunic that left nothing to the imagination and Nighkru in a metallic thong and little else.

Hell, by those standards Sabine’s choice of his outfit for the evening was downright restrained.

Not that he was about to thank her for it…

Though the knowing smirk she sent in his direction said that she had some idea as to where his thoughts were regarding his fellow men and their choice of garments – or lack thereof.

The pair had to steer around a truly massive specimen of a Rakiri male – the poor bastard looking like he was all of one more muffin from a heart attack – and the only slightly smaller but significantly more athletic looking band of amazonian werewolf-looking females of his species crowded around him.

“So, how’d you get an invite to something like this?” Mark asked quietly, well aware of the many curious eyes glancing their way from other guests.

Which was only natural, given they were likely the first two humans to ever visit Krenhiem.

Sabine was equally unbothered by the looks, her smile enigmatic “Oh, I have my ways.”

For a moment, Mark was tempted to press for an actual explanation, before deciding to drop it. Frankly, he didn’t care enough. After tonight, he’d be done with all this crap. With that in mind, he found himself looking around for their target for the evening.

And it didn’t take long to find her.

“There’s Tazek,” Sabine murmured, eyes alighting on where the smuggler and crime boss was sitting at the back of the room, talking with a number of equally shady looking other women.

“Right,” Mark said. “Well, let’s go get this over with.”

And before she could say anything he was striding over.

…Though before he could make it more than a dozen steps, a figure glided into his path.

“Sabine, mon chéri!” the Nighkru trilled in what even Mark could tell was butchered French, clasping Sabine’s hands with a gentle squeeze of her claws. “So thrilled you graced us with your presence. Tell me, are you savoring the festivities?”

Sabine’s lips curled into a strained smile, eyes flitting between the interloper and their original objective. “It’s certainly quite the spectacle, Horelia. I can say without a doubt that your hospitality doesn’t fail to impress.”

Ah, Mark realized trying not to stare at the gold filigree glinting on the Nighkru’s horns. This is our hostess.

“Exquisite!” Horelia said before her gaze darted to Mark, eyes widening with a childlike glee as she took him in. “And this must be your charming male companion! I simply must introduce you two to a few souls who are just dying to unravel the mysteries of humanity and Earth. Honestly, it’s such a rare delight to have you both under my roof tonight.”

Ah, Mark thought for a second time. Now I know how we got an invite.

They weren’t guests. Not really.

They were curiosities, trotted out like exotic beasts at a zoo.

And suddenly Sabine’s coy dodge earlier about how she got an invite made sense. Indeed, he could feel in the way her grip on his arm tightened just slightly, betraying her embarrassment – or more likely indignation - at being reduced to this.

“We’d be delighted to meet them,” Sabine began, though her tone was apologetic as her head tilted vaguely into the crowd. “But would it be possible for it to wait a moment? We were just about to catch up with-”

“Excellent!” Horelia cut in, clearly only having acknowledged the first sentence. “On that note, I remember you saying your man there was a chef.” She eyed Mark. “Would it be at possible for you conjure something from Earth for us, darling? A little taste of your homeworld’s magic - a human delicacy to tantalize the palate?”

Oh god, there was so much condescension in that sentence it was incredible. He also wasn’t too appreciative of the lung-full of some kind of liquor on her tongue that wafted over him.

Plus, there was another issue with her request that was immediately obvious to anyone with two brain cells to rub together…

“I’d jump at the chance, ma’am. But I’m currently locked into an exclusive deal with Kalia Vorn. ‘Selling’ my services to another party would be a violation of our contract.” He took a breath, making sure to speak slowly. “And even if I could get around that rather glaring issue – do you even have any terran ingredients on hand?”

He doubted it, given the last minute nature of his attendance and the sheer cost in having Earth-based ingredients imported all the way out here. Now, it was possible he was wrong on that front, but he doubted. Still, he made sure to inject just enough innocence into that last question that it wasn’t immediately obvious that he was questioning the woman’s mental faculties.

Which clearly needed questioning as he watched her pause, brow furrowing as if the logistics of her request were a puzzle she’d not considered, her manicured claws stalling mid-tap.

Sabine slid into the silence, her voice a velvet caress cutting through the awkward hush. “Of course we’d still be enchanted to meet your guests, Horelia, but if Mark can’t whip something authentic up, then perhaps letting the anticipation simmer for a bit longer might make it all the more thrilling later?”

Horelia pondered this, slightly vacant gaze mulling it over, before she nodded with a reluctant sigh. “I suppose you’re onto something there. Without food as well… yes, I suppose if it’s just the two of you, it might be better to let the suspense build.”

With a final, wistful glance at Mark - her eyes lingering on Mark’s ‘v-neck’ - she wandered off.

Mark watched her go, before glancing at Sabine and whispering. “Really?”

Sabine rolled her eyes, grip on him tightening slightly. “Horelia has deep pockets and a taste for the exotic. That she’s a drunken socialite wastrel only makes her more useful as a contact, not less. That the only price for being able to attend a gathering like this is to actually attend it so she can show off how ‘wordly’ she is, is to our benefit.”

Alright, Mark saw the logic in that, but he’d be damned if his view of the world of ‘espionage’ hadn’t just taken a hit.

At the very least, he felt a little better that he wasn’t the only one essentially whoring himself out tonight. Though only a little, given he and Sabine were part of a package deal on that front.

“Shall we go then?” Sabine asked.

And reluctantly, he nodded. Even if, joint humiliation aside, he now really wanted to punch something.

Or someone.

You know what? Fuck it, he thought. Before tonight was through, someone was getting punched.

----------------------------

Sabine Moreau grinned, blood pumping through her veins, as she stalked forward with the precision of a panther on the prowl, her arm a silken tether around Mark’s as they sliced through the perfumed throng.

She lived for this shit – and right now her prey was in sight.

“Sabine?” Tazek’s voice slithered out, a low, amused drawl, her bio-luminescent tattoos poking out from the sides of her shirt for just a moment as she set her glass down with a deliberate clink. Her eyes roamed over Sabine, then lingered on Mark, a flicker of recognition igniting. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Let alone with the only other human on this rock. Last time at The Live Wire, he barely spared you a second glance.”

Others amongst the small coterie the crime lord had gathered glanced up at the Nighkru’s words, eyes widening slightly at the presence of two ‘aliens’ – though much like Tazek, they lingered on Mark most of all.

Humans had a reputation, after all; especially their males.

Which was why he was here, no matter how much she knew he’d rather be anywhere else.

Fortunately, despite his disinterest in actually solving the problem of Earth’s occupation – a trait unfortunately shared by ninety percent of humanity – she’d been able to leverage his trauma regarding the Interior to get him to agree to this.

That, as much as anything, had been why she’d broken into his apartment.

And while it had been effective in getting him to come along on this occasion, she knew for a fact that she’d fully soured him on herself as a person – effectively destroying the goodwill she’d built up on the trip over.

While that was unfortunate, it was an acceptable price.

Not ideal, of course - because she knew she’d have further use for the kind of ‘exotic bait’ Mark’s presence provided in the future – but acceptable.

His presence had been a boon unlooked for to begin with, a useful tool she’d not expected to have. Those future tasks would be made more difficult by his absence, but only insofar as she’d originally anticipated.

In much the same way her current task could in theory be accomplished without him, it would incur more risk than was ideal.

“Oh, he put up a spirited resistance, but I tamed him in the end,” Sabine purred, her hand tightening on Mark’s arm, displaying possessive edge to her smile as she tilted her head toward him with a coy wink, her fingers tracing a teasing line along his chin.

An uncouth and absurd display but the kind of women that ran in Tazek’s circles ate it right up, grinning and elbowing each other.

Tazek chuckled, a rough, guttural rasp of a thing. “Ha! And here I’d heard rumors that Earth’s men were the ones that held the reins.”

“Once, maybe,” she murmured. “Not anymore.”

She felt Mark stiffen, but fortunately he was wise enough not to say anything at the clear provocation – playing the broken bronco to a tee. Honestly speaking, he had a pretty good hold over his emotions. To the extent that it was something of a shame he had little to no interest in getting more involved in Earth’s liberation.

His acting ability could definitely use work, though –there was no missing the hint of rebellion in his gaze.

Not that Tazek or her ilk would care about such a thing. Only that any male they chose to involve themselves with ‘obeyed’.

And right on cue…

“Well, if he’s tamed,” Tazek drawled, her tone rising to carry over the crowd, a blatant flex for the onlookers, “perhaps you wouldn’t mind giving me a turn, eh? I assume that’s why you brought him here? A little bribe for old Tazek after I turned your little human gladiatorial ring scheme down?”

Low chuckles rang through the group around her. Not all of them were criminals like Tazek, at least not explicitly. The line between ‘business woman’ and ‘criminal’ on Krenheim tended to be wafer thin.

Mostly it came down to just how blatant one chose to be about the whole thing. Which was the reality of the role Tazek occupied – being the ‘visible’ arm of a large number of corporate entities that chose to engage in less than legal behavior outside of Krenheim’s immediate space. Contacts Sabine needed to engage with using the Nighkru as an intermediary.

“Now, now,” Sabine tutted. “That was originally the idea, but I must admit I’ve grown rather fond of my fellow earthling since wrangling him. So now I’m thinking of another idea.”

Tazek frowned, a little annoyed. “Oh, what’s that?”

And now Plan A went into motion – though it was one she personally believed had little chance of working. Oh, she’d pitched it to Mark as the ‘primary plan’, but the reality was that it was the first backup that was likely to actually work.

“I’m feeling a little greedy. I’m the kind of girl who likes to chase two Krohare and catch them both, after all.” Truth be told, she had no clue what a Krohare was, but it was a pretty standard Nighkru phrase – basically the equivalent of ‘have your cake and eat it too’. “And I’m willing to bet you’re the same, no?”

Tazek twitched, but even if she were inclined to disagree, her reputation wouldn’t allow her to do so. Not with so many people watching.

Hence why Sabine had chosen to have this little confrontation at a party.

“Aye,” the alien said warily, though trying to hide it.

“Then how about a bet? This is Krenheim, after all. It seems only fitting.”

Now, realistically, Sabine expected to be shot down here. Tazek’s reason for denying her request for a trade route to Earth hadn’t been entirely without reason. Specifically, that it was too far away and not worth the risk of taking illicit cargo so deep into Imperial territory.

“There’s some simulators nearby. How about a gladiator mech match? If you win, well, Mark here is yours for the night.” She gave the man in question a spank on the ass as she spoke, ignoring the indignant glare he discretely aimed in her direction. “If I win, well, we reopen those talks on the subject of supplying Earth.”

Talks that would be a foregone conclusion at that point. If Tazek agreed to the bet, it would be with the understanding of that. And in front of all the people here, her reputation would be tanked if she didn’t follow through.

And for criminals like Tazek? Well, a reputation for reliability was far more important than it was for a company on the up and up. It had to be in an industry where there was no ‘higher power’ ready to enforce any deals that might be made.

Or at least, no higher power than the opinions of her other business partners.

…With that said, it was kind of irrelevant.

“If Tazek hasn’t got the guts for it,” a Shil’vati woman laughed. “I’d be delighted to take up that bet. I’ve got a few ships and parts after all.”

Laughter rippled out at those words – and the insult to both Sabine and Tazek implied in them.

Sabine resisted the urge to roll her eyes at it though. Tazek had no reason to accept. Mark might have been an exotic trophy for her – nailing one of the only humans on the planet – but a single night and a notch on her bed post wasn’t worth-

“You’ve got yourself a deal. A night with that stallion and I don’t have to listen to any more of your begging after? Sounds good to me,” Tazek grunted, glaring at the Shil’vati that had spoken.

And Sabine could barely believe her ears.

She’d… accepted?

Why!?

The real plan had called for Mark to feign offense at Sabine’s gambit after Tazek declined, before offering to go home with the crime lord out of spite - a move the Vrekian would definitely eagerly accept.

And once alone in the crime lord's estate, he’d deploy the knockout strip that was currently taped to his thigh to incapacitate her. Then he’d use the autohacker chit concealed in his underwear to breach her personal computer.

The incriminating data from that would give Sabine the leverage to force Tazek into smuggling weapons for the resistance.

That was the plan she’d been banking on!

She’d only presented this plan to Mark as a way of suckering him into getting involved in the first place!

Of course, all of these thoughts occurred in but a moment – as the spy refused to let her surprise show.

“You’ll be piloting I assume?” Tazek inquired, finally tearing her gaze from the other alien to study Sabine, her clawed fingers drumming the table with a steady cadence.

Sabine’s smile hadn’t twitched a bit, as she cocked her head – even as she cursed internally.

“But of course. Beyond getting you on board to supply our future league, this is a golden opportunity to for me demonstrate that us humans are more than capable of mastering a cockpit,” she declared, even as her pulse raced.

She could pilot a mech. Her interest in the mech fighting leagues wasn’t entirely feigned and she’d practiced a lot in preparation for her ‘role’.

Still, this wasn’t exactly an ‘ideal’ situation.

Krenhiem wasn’t exactly bereft of piloting talent and there was nothing stopping Tazek from-

“You know, one of my guards has a real interest in piloting. Silly girl’s trying to build her own mech, if you can believe it.”

“Really?” Sabine heard one of the other women say over her sinking gut.

“Oh yeah,” Tazek continued. “Thinks I don’t know she’s been building one in her off-time. Still, she’s got talent enough for it, I guess. Enough that I’m thinking of sponsoring her when she finishes the machine.”

The Nighkru’s gaze flitted to Sabine. “How’s that sound? Two rookies?”

“Splendid!” Sabine lied, even as she was inwardly relieved that the situation wasn’t totally unsalvageable. Hell, even if she lost, it wasn’t like they couldn’t go through with the second plan anyway.

“Great,” Tazek muttered as she typed out a few words on her data-pad, likely summoning the guard in question. “We got anyone willing to officiate this little spectacle?”

“I think I will,” a voice cut through the ambient noise of the party behind them.

A very familiar voice – though one Sabine had only heard on the hypernet. Though one she had no doubt Mark was much more accustomed to hearing in person.

Because as she turned, she found herself staring into the very irritated eyes of one Kalia Vorn – professional mech pilot, heiress to the Vorn Corporation, and Mark’s employer on Krenheim.

And she did not look even a little happy.

----------------------------

Jelara ‘sat’ in the confines of the outbuilding that had been set aside for the many guards and security teams of Lady Horelia’s party guests.

She said ‘sat’ because as an Ulnus, the concept didn’t really track. And she was also standing.

Or rather, the power armored suit she was wearing was standing – and she’d let her ‘body’ inside go limp.

Hence, sitting.

The many women inside the squat building weren’t exactly crammed in, but it wasn’t exactly terribly spacious either. Which was less than ideal for a number of reasons. One of which was ‘sitting’ next to her in her own power-armored suit.

“Come on Jels. You owe us. You can’t just keep him to yourself.”

Jelara’s body flickered as a ripple of irritation flitted through her as she stared though her helmet at her fellow Ulnus.

Vrixa, wasn’t a bad sort. A little scatter-brained and a little hyper, but that wasn’t particularly unusual for a seven-core. What was unusual was that she was dumb as a bag of rocks.

One would think that have two extra minds over the standard would translate to more mental bandwidth, but the base-bodies that made up her friend were clearly of subpar stock.

And while Jelara owed her friend for telling her about Mark’s visit to the Livewire and his subsequent meeting with her boss, that didn’t mean she owed the other woman ‘a taste’ of the ‘tasty human’.

Proverbially.

No matter what certain people though, Ulnus didn’t actually eat sapient species. Yes, technically they engaged in ‘cannibalism’, but that was only against solo Ulnus.

A solo-mind of their race was basically just an animal. Even two joined together was barely any better. It was only once three Ulnus joined that they could really be called a person.

And even then, they’d be a pretty thick one.

With that thought in mind, she idly found herself wondering if would really be wrong to eat her friend.

Of course, that thought was a joke.

…Mostly.

Fortunately, any further thoughts she had on the technicalities of cannibalism were brought to an end as her HUD pinged a message from her boss.

Need you at the party. Now.

‘Frowning’ a little at the words, she idly found herself wondering what trouble her employer had managed to find herself in.

“Hey, where are you going?” her friend asked as Jelara stood up, her suit’s joints unlocking with a series of small clunks.

“Boss needs me for something,” she replied laconically, shifting around the other guards present as she moved towards the exit.

A few of her fellow bodyguards had shifted a little at Jelara’s movements, but given the Ulnus hadn’t reached for her weapons in the locker – and they weren’t getting alarms from their own VIPs – none seemed to feel any need to stop her from heading into the main hall.

If she wasn’t supposed to go, it would be the job of the enforcers on patrol out there to stop her. The women in here were only concerned with the protection of their own clients, not the party as a whole.

Hopefully, whatever the boss was calling her for wouldn’t change that. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too troublesome.

At the very least, this one doubts it will be any more troublesome than listening to Vrixa any longer, she thought as she strode out.