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Posted: **Fri May 26, 2023 7:11 am**

Behind Her Eyes

On paper, the City belongs to the Workers. In reality, the products of their labor accrue to the Party bosses. One night, cannery worker Zoe boards a train, intent on joining the Resistance. She will have to leave everything behind...

Cyberpunk dystopia meets ENF.

Chapter One: Sight

Three metro stops were all that remained of Zoe's old life. She had ridden this line every day for years, and she could feel the time between each stop in her bones and recite every word the electronic notification system would speak. After the next three stops, Freedom Palace, Museum of Progress and People's Plaza, she would disembark at Central Ublat, just like she had done a thousand times before. But on this occasion, a few things would be different.

For one, it was approaching midnight, and she was the only passenger. When Zoe usually took this journey, she was squashed in like a sardine with her fellow citizens at eight o'clock in the morning. Zoe didn't usually find herself traveling to work at this late hour, but she had left something important unfinished, and had to ensure its completion before morning. Such was her dedication to the People. Or at least, that is what she had told her residential manager.

Zoe's wore her dark hair loose, and its long, flowing tresses hid a plaster behind her right ear. This plaster concealed the small wound she'd inflicted on herself in the process of jailbreaking her own mind.

<It's almost time,> said a voice in her head. <Have you located the package?>

The voice belonged to a man she knew as Yvain, her contact with the underground resistance movement. She'd had a difficult time getting him to trust her, communicating only through net messages, but eventually he'd given her instructions for the dangerous and highly illegal alterations she'd made to her Citizen's Mental Regulator (CMR) implant two days earlier, using a scalpel and a couple of mirrors. That she'd been willing to go through with it and then let him into her mind appeared to have been enough to get him fully on her side.

 she thought back at him. <I've searched this whole train already!>

Zoe felt another wave of annoyance from Yvain, and it made her feel annoyed too. It was odd, having another human take the place of her implant's AI helper, which never experienced emotions.

<Well look again,> Yvain's voice echoed. <There's only one stop left before you need to get off.>

Pouting, Zoe made a show of searching the train car. She allowed Yvain to access her visual cortex, just to make sure he knew how thoroughly she was searching, as she futilely poked under seats and inside bins. The package Yvain had told her was waiting for her on this very train, in this very car, was missing in action. And he'd been so adament that she wait ten minutes for this specific train as well.

There was a long moment of silence in Zoe's head. The train stopped at Museum of Progress, and the car doors opened and closed with a couple of pneumatic hisses. As the train pulled off, Yvain sighed deeply and admitted that the package was indeed missing. Some robot had probably assumed it was garbage and thrown it out, or maybe Yvain's contacts hadn't been able to plant it in the first place.<The life of a fugitive is fraught with uncertainty,> he reminded Zoe.

 Zoe thought back.

<Do you really? Have you thought about what it means, that the package is not here? Considering what it contained...>

Zoe mentally scoffed. <The City won't be able to track any resistance members down, just from a package containing some clothes. Not unless you printed the hideout's address on the labels. You didn't, right?>

More emotions leaked into Zoe's mind. She could feel frustration and, was that... embarrassment? <Could they track the sender?> she asked. The idea of a member of the resistance being caught while assisting her made Zoe feel sick.

The frustration increased. <Of course not. We're very careful about these things. The package is rigged with a mechanism that dissolves its contents if it's not opened within a certain amount of time, and there's nothing identifiable about the clothes inside anyway—that's really the whole point.>

Zoe felt relieved. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

<Do you... remember what you were supposed to do with the package?> Yvain's words were accompanied by a tinge of... guilt? Shame? Nervousness? The sensation of another's emotions in her mind was still new to Zoe, and she couldn't always figure them out.

<Of course,> she replied. <I was to open it up and change into the clothes I found inside. Good thing this train's empty! The City primarily tracks us through our CMRs, but also through our uniforms, so I was to place my uniform on an empty seat, to fool it into thinking I stayed onboard.>

<Well, that part of the plan hasn't changed.>

Zoe's eyes widened as she made the mental connection. <Oh.>

<I'm going to take this opportunity to remind you that all City-made textiles are woven with innumerable tiny chips. Every last one.>

Zoe felt her insides twist. <Right, yes, you've said as much before. Guess we'll need a change of plans, then. Maybe we can try again tomorrow night. Do you have another way of getting packages to me?>

Coldness overcame Zoe's mind. <Something you'll have to learn about the Resistance, Zoe, is that we don't generally have the resources for contingency plans. Even if we could spare another welcome package, delivery is a dangerous mission in itself.>

Zoe gasped, audibly. <But you said—!>

 Yvain clarified. <It was probably just found and thrown out by a robot. We'll just have to do without it.>

<Okay,> Zoe replied, deflated. <I'll take the train back home and we can try something else tomorrow night.>

<That's not an option. We can't risk detection of your jailbroken CMR. There have been too many close shaves already.> Zoe thought back to the suspicious look she'd received from her residence manager just before leaving home. <But you knew that when you picked up the scalpel. Your old life is over Zoe, there's no turning back now.>

<But that means...>

<Yes.>

The train stopped at People's Plaza. Once more, the doors hissed open. Zoe remained seated, fingering the collar of her purple jumpsuit nervously, still not quite believing what Yvain was asking her to do. After a few seconds, the doors closed, and the train continued on towards Central Ublat. Her stop. In a few minutes, she would need to disembark.

<It's the middle of the night, there's no-one around,> thought Yvain, in a tone he probably thought was reassuring. <With your CMR jailbroken, none of the robots or computers will be able to detect you. All you need to do is walk a few blocks.>

If Zoe didn't get off at Central Ublat, she would be breaking the trust of the Resistance, after committing the very serious crime of jailbreaking her CMR. The City would not forgive her for that. She would have no-one.

<It's not that cold tonight,> continued Yvain. <Good thing we've been having this heatwave, right?>

Zoe reminded herself that seasoned Resistance operatives had undertaken much more dangerous missions than this. Whatever sacrifices it would take to officially join them tonight would pale in comparison to the sacrifices she would be required to make as a full member.

She had expected this, her first mission to be dangerous. But she hadn't expected it to be... embarrassing!

<You're sure there's no other way?> Zoe asked.

<I'm truly sorry,> replied Yvain, and Zoe could feel his genuine empathy. <I'll have something for you when you arrive.>

She had made the choice to join the Resistance with what she had imagined was full knowledge of the consequences. This was unexpected. But anything had to be better than returning to her old life. Even this.

Most of the city's population was under curfew, and those who weren't would be hard at work inside. The streets were all but deserted this late at night. That's why they had chosen this time to do it. And she would be careful not to get caught. Embarrassment would be the least part of the consequences for getting caught.

Zoe leaned forward and undid the straps on her boots. Then she pulled her feet out, one by one, and took off both socks. The air felt good against her bare feet, still sore from a long day's work, and she wiggled her toes.

Zoe stood up on bare feet, feeling lightheaded. Her hands shook as they reached for the zipper that rested near her clavicle. She took a deep breath, and began to pull it down.

<We're almost there,> Yvain reminded her.

The zip stopped at her waist. She released it and allowed the top of the jumpsuit to fall, exposing her arms and stomach. It caught at her waist, and she helped it down, until it lay pooled about her feet. There was certain symbolism in this, Zoe mused. By removing the tracked clothes, she was casting off the chains that the City had held her in for so many years.

The train would be arriving at Central Ublat in less than a minute. Zoe didn't have time to stand about in her underwear, which, as Yvain made sure to remind her, was just as full of tracking chips as her jumpsuit. It was also starchy and uncomfortable, and, she reminded herself, represented bondage to a regime she hated. Even so, she hesitated to remove either garment.

Zoe had known she would need to get undressed on the train, so this part of the process was not something she was wholly unprepared for. They'd chosen an empty commuter train in the middle of the night for this reason. Still, Zoe had spent much of the afternoon dreading this eventuality. Hands still shaking, she reached for the clasp of her bra and undid it.

The bra fell on top of the jumpsuit. Her breasts drooped slightly, and she could feel her long hair against them.

Now she had only her panties to remove. Unlike the last two garments, these were tight enough that she couldn't just let them fall. Zoe had to, very consciously, slide her thumbs under the fabric and pull it down her legs, until it joined the pool of purple and white fabric at her feet.

Freedom, she told herself, as she stepped out of the pooled fabric, feeling far more exposed and vulnerable than free. Rebirth was probably a better word. She had discarded her old life, and begun her new one, naked as the day she was born.

The train would arrive at her stop in thirty seconds. Zoe picked up the jumpsuit and deposited both her panties and bra inside it before pulling the zip back up. She placed it back on her seat, stuffing the legs into her boots. It now looked as though a person sitting on the train seat had magically vanished out of their clothes.

So far, everything she'd done was in accordance with the original plan. At this point, she would have taken the replacement jumpsuit from the package and pulled it on. She had fretted about having to go commando, which now seemed like a very silly concern.

<Are you ready?> Yvain asked.

<Yes,> Zoe thought back, blushing. <The... trackers have been removed.>

<I, err, need to confirm that your uniform is in place.>

Zoe gave Yvain access to her visual cortex and looked at the uniform spread across the train seat. She lifted the neck and glanced inside it, blushing even more as she shared the visual of her discarded underwear. <That's everything,> she thought back, trying to suppress the emotions flooding through her.

<Great,> Yvain thought. <There's just one more thing. I have to confirm you aren't being tracked.>

Zoe projected a general sense of confusion mixed with willingness to do whatever he asked if he would just clarify what it was.

"Now arriving at Central Ublat," said the electronic annnouncer.



The embarrassment Yvain projected while asking this was dwarfed by Zoe's total mortification. But with the train doors about to open at her stop, she didn't have time to do anything but comply. Zoe felt as though steam would start coming out of her ears as she looked down over her body, visual cortex still shared.

Embarrassment, guilt, and... was that... hunger? These were the emotions that flooded in from Yvain as he took in her round breasts, small pink nipples, milky belly and thighs, and of course the neat rectangle of hair covering her crotch.

<L-looks good,> he stammered. Zoe hadn't heard a mental stammer before.

She allowed him to complete the inspection by surveying the reflection of her back and pert round bottom in the train car window. Then the train stopped and the doors hissed open.

Now it was time for the unexpected part of the mission. Wishing, not for the last time, that the Resistance welcome package had reached her, Zoe turned away from her uniform and disembarked, bare feet stepping from cool plastic to rough stone.

She dared not look back as the train door hissed closed behind her. Listening to the sound of the train pulling off was bad enough. But as she hurried towards the exit, she couldn't help but allow herself a single glance backwards.

The platform was empty. The train had departed, taking every vestige of her old life along with it. She was naked in a subway station now, with nothing to guide her but the voice in her head. There was truly no turning back now.

<Where to next?> she asked Yvain.

<Up the stairs and out onto the street. The place isn't too far from here, but we're going to have to change up the route a bit, keep to the back alleys.>

<Thank you.> Zoe had left the platform now and was standing on a quickly ascending escalator. The station was deserted, but she couldn't stop her arms from moving to cover her body from the cavernous space all around.

A sharp shock of guilt and shame made Zoe gasp. <Zoe,> Yvain thought. <I'm sorry for my... reaction earlier. It was involuntary, but I should have kept myself under better control. I won't ask you to do that again.>

<That's okay,> Zoe replied, blushing as she recalled the feeling she'd taken to be hunger, which was, of course, desire. <You had to make sure I wasn't... holding out.>

<And you weren't,> Yvain replied. <You'll make a great asset to our cause.>

As the escalator got closer to the top, Zoe grew more nervous. She hunched over and covered as much of herself as she could with her arms, preparing to dash for the exit and the welcome cover of darkness. The station was much too bright for a naked woman.

As the top of the escalator came within sight, Zoe heard a familiar clicking and buzzing that made the blood freeze in her veins. The upper station floor was being patroled by a surveillance drone, a flying machine with a three glowing yellow eyes. And those eyes were pointed right at her!

Zoe barely dared to breath as the eyes stared at her, the drone whizzing and clicking all the while. She couldn't believe she'd been caught so quickly! After all her preparation, her time as a Resistance fighter had lasted less than ten minutes. Any second now, the drone would taze and immobilize her, and then call the police. She would be arrested, naked and on her knees.

<Give me your eyes!> screamed Yvain, who'd obviously noticed the panicked state of her mind. Zoe granted him access once more.

By this time, she had reached the top of the escalator and stumbled off it, the drone bearing down on her. Strangely, it had not set off an alarm or tried to communicate with her, even as its eye stared directly at her shaking body.

The drone continued to move in her direction. When it was almost close enough to touch her, it abruptly spun around and moved back in the opposite direction. There was no alarm, and no tazer. What was it doing? Had it already called the police?

Yvain laughed in her head. <It didn't see you, Zoe! Remember, your CMR isn't broadcasting anymore. We switched that off as soon as you got on the train. As far as any robots are concerned, you're invisible!>

Zoe felt a mix of relief and embarrassment at having forgotten about that. She glanced at the drone curiously as it continued to make its patrol of the empty train station.

<Don't get too close, it'll definitely notice something if you touch it,> thought Yvain. <But as long as you keep out of its way, you'll be fine. The Resistance wouldn't get away with anything if we couldn't trick these robots like this.>

Feeling better than she had since she'd stepped of the train, Zoe straightened up and headed for the train station exit, her eyes repeated stealing glances at the drone. The City was crawling with robots of all kinds, and they were always accosting citizens and giving them orders. To be completely ignored by one was a new and very welcome experience.

Zoe reached the station exit and leaned around the open entrance to check both ways before leaving. The street ahead was deserted.

The wind picked up as she exited the station and Zoe felt goosebumps ripple across her exposed skin. She instinctively pulled her arms around herself and darted away from the light of the streetlamps. Robots might ignore her, but humans certainly wouldn't.

<Okay, I've plotted a route through the backalleys to keep you out of sight,> thought Yvain. <It's going to take a bit longer than the original one, but that can't be helped. If anyone sees you like this, they'll alert the authorities immediately.>

<Believe me Yvain, I have no desire for anyone to spot me right now,> Zoe replied, clutching herself tighter. Still sharing her visual cortex with Yvain, she glanced at nearest gap between buildings, just behind the train station. <Should I go there?>

<Yes.>

Zoe narrowed her eyes and dashed for entrance to the alley, her breasts quivering beneath the arm that held them in place. The alley, like the street, was deserted, but much darker. Covered by the shadows of high walls, Zoe allowed herself to relax once she felt the darkness had fully engulfed her.

BANG! A loud noise startled Zoe, and she dove behind a metal dumpster, adrenaline spiking in her veins.

<What's going on?> asked Yvain, his own panic mingling with Zoe's.

<There was a noise, like a gunshot!> Still breathing heavily, Zoe peaked around the dumpster and back in the direction she'd come. The street beyond was still empty.

<Probably just a truck backfiring,> Yvain thought. She could feel him projecting a sense of calm into her mind, and her breathing slowed. <Nothing to worry about. But maybe...>

<Yes?>

<Maybe you should give me audio access as well. J-just so we don't waste any more time like this.>

Zoe could feel that Yvain was hesitant, embarrassed about asking her to provide this additional intimacy. He was already sharing her eyes, and had used them to look at her naked body. All for the sake of the mission, of course. Allowing him to use her ears as well could only help.

<Okay,> Zoe thought back at him, as she opened up access to her hearing. She'd done this many times with her AI assistant, to translate foreign languages, or identify a song, and this was really no different, except that she would be keeping the connection open for as long as it took her to reach the Resitance outpost.

<It's quiet,> Yvain thought. <You're breathing pretty hard though.>

Zoe blushed. She hadn't thought it possible to expose herself even more to him. <Yeah, well, you try running around central without any clothes on and we'll see how it makes you feel!>

<Sorry!> The apology felt genuine, enough to make her feel bad for snapping at him

<Where do I go n—hey, look at that!> Zoe's eyes had fallen on a tall roll of glossy paper, which was propped up next to the dumpster. It looked quite large enough to serve as covering.

She stepped towards it, picked it up and partially unrolled it. The severe face of Boris Kolmov stared back at her, steely gray eyes resolute over his bushy moustache. He stood before a backdrop of stone and steel factories, belching enormous quantities of black smoke. Beneath his face ran the lines, "Let us follow the example of Comrade Boris and work for the good of the People!"

<I'm surprised this wasn't properly disposed of,> thought Yvain. <Kolmov has was unpersoned weeks ago.>

Zoe had known his face well, from her job at the cannery. He had been a high-ranking Party official in the People's Larder. She remembered seeing his face blown up to enormous size on the factory wall, and how he would pat his belly as he congratulated the workers on increased canning production. Production was always increasing, by whatever measures he used, even in the weeks when Zoe had sat on her hands, waiting for delayed supplies, or for the electricity to turn back on. He seemed to get fatter as she and her colleagues tightened their belts.

She had won the Boris Kolmov Worker of Month award once, a rusty pewter medal she recalled with more embarrassment than pride. But that was before he was discovered to be an enemy of the revolution, a secret spy for reactionary forces. That seemed to happen to a lot of high-ranking party officials, now that she thought about it.

 mused Yvain. <If only some of the bigwigs who get accused of being spies for us actually were...>

Zoe pressed the poster against her front, bringing Kolmov's eyes into direct contact with her nipples. She wrapped the poster around herself, her butt against a factory. Its glossy finish felt smooth against her skin, and she glanced down at her handiwork. The poster covered her all the way from just below her shoulders down to her knees.

<Kolmov's doing some spying for us after all,> Yvain thought wryly. This thought was followed by an instant sense of panic, and the mental image of a boot going into a man's mouth.

<Hey!> Zoe thought back, though she was unable to suppress a small giggle. The thought of giving the real Boris Kolmov this kind of a close look at her was repellent, but this was only a poster. <Hmmm... you don't think this has got any trackers in it, do you?>

<No, they don't do that to posters. And even if they did, this one would be deactivated. They don't want any evidence that Kolmov ever existed.>

Reassured and somewhat covered up, Zoe continued down the alleyway, her left arm pressed tightly to her side to keep the ends of the poster together. Walking was a little awkward like this, and she had to be careful not to let the poster slip down, but it felt a lot better than being naked and completely exposed. It would have been quite obvious to any onlookers that she wasn't wearing anything underneath the poster, but she was showing no more skin than she would have in a shoulderless dress.

At the end of the alley, Yvain indicated that she should turn right, and she did so. Now on the open street again, her heart beat faster, and she picked up the pace, keen to return to the shelter of the next narrow alleyway.

But before she could get there, she heard a voice.

"Halt, comrade!"

Zoe froze at once. She was caught! All the effort she'd put in researching the Resistance, discovering how to jailbreak her CMR, all the risks she'd taken... all useless! She was caught, and she hadn't even officially joined yet.

<Stay calm,> thought Yvain, again projecting a sense of peace into Zoe's spinning mind. <Remember, you haven't officially joined us yet. You're still a normal citizen. Just act like one, play it cool.>

<Okay, okay, you're right,> Zoe thought back. <Just... help me out here!>

<Of course. Do as the officer tells you, and I'll make sure you can answer any questions he has.>

"Turn around, please," came the voice again.

Seconds had passed since the voice first spoke, but Zoe felt she'd lived a lifetime inside the silence. Slowly, she turned around to face her assailant, plastering a nervous smile on her face and holding tight to the poster. "Good evening, comrade," she said.

The man who had stopped her had curly blonde hair and a nasty look on his face. From his blue uniform, she could tell he was part of City law enforcement. He was precisely the sort of person she'd been worrying about running into tonight, even with clothes on. Being naked but for a poster made it ten times worse.

"It's quite late at night, comrade," he said, speaking slowly. The man took a few steps forward, his eyes flicking up and down Zoe's body, as if he was trying to X-ray the poster. "I don't think I've seen this kind of uniform before. What's your name and occupation?"

A vivid image of an ID card she'd never seen before appeared in Zoe's mind. "Justine Trask," she said. "Logistics."

The man studied her face for a moment, and then produced a device from his pocket. It resembled a barcode scanner, and was used to read CMRs. He held it up to Zoe's eyes and pressed a button.

<Don't worry, he won't be able to detect anything unusual about your CMR with that thing,> thought Yvain. <And the ID records I've just put in place are legit.>

A red light flashed briefly, and the officer glanced at the reading on his end of the device. He frowned, clearly upset that his reading corroborated "Justine"'s story. "You're a little underdressed for your night shift, Comrade Justine," he said.

"I'm not on night shift," Zoe replied bluntly. "I work days. I was just sleep... sleepwalking."

<Nice thinking. I've got an address right near here all ready to go if he asks where you live.>

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Do you sleep under a... poster?"

"No, of course not," Zoe replied, blush rising to her cheeks. "I sleep in the nude." She rushed the words out forcefully, bluntly, and for the first time, the officer broke eye contact with her, clearly flustered by the mental image she'd just given him.

<Keep going...> thought Yvain.

"Yes, I sleep naked," continued Zoe. "Sometimes I sleep walk. Usually not this far. But tonight, my mind is restless. It is busy, thinking of the work that must be done, and of all the ways I can aid our People and the glorious revolution. So busy that I was compelled to spring out of bed in the middle of the night, eager to return to my post at the station. I woke up a few minutes ago in that alley around the corner, and found this poster to cover myself."

The officer nodded, only half-listening.

"Now, I must return to my bed so that I can awake fully rested for another day of proud toil in the name of our city. Comrade, if you would kindly dismiss me, I bid you good night!"

The officer was silent for a long moment, gazing off into the distance. Then he turned back to Zoe, looked slowly up and down once more, and sighed. "All right, Comrade Justine. I will not keep you from your rest."

Mentally, Zoe breathed a deep sigh of relief, and she felt Yvain do the same. "Thank you, Comrade," she said, turning around.

"Oh, but there is one thing," said the officer.

Zoe's stomach sank.

<Now what?> thought Yvain, irritably.

"It is illegal for citizens to possess materials which glorify traitors to the revolution."

Zoe's eyes widened. "W-what do you mean?" she asked, turning back to face the officer, whose face had broken into a twisted grin.

The officer pointed to Zoe's front, and she looked down. Right there, at the top of the poster's white back, small black words were printed which read, "Comrade Boris Kolmov Inspirational Poster #13."

The sound of Yvain swearing filled Zoe's mind.

"Please, comrade, give the poster to me so that I can dispose of it." The officer reached out a hand.

"B-but, i-it's just— I—I'm naked!"

"Not to worry comrade, I have a spare uniform for you," said the officer, patting the bag he carried on his back. "It is... the correctional uniform, admittedly, but you will not need to wear it for very long. And even that is a better covering... you must feel quite embarrassed."

<I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to put on his correctional uniform,> Yvain thought at Zoe. <Those things have even stronger trackers in them than the others.>

<Of course. But what should I do?>

<Just... give him the poster.>

<Oh he's going to love that! You can see the look in his eyes, Yvain.>

<I'm working on a plan, Zoe, just trust me, okay. Hand over the poster, and this will all be over soon.>

Zoe wasn't convinced, but she didn't see any other options. <Fine.> She looked at the officer's still-outstretched hand with disgust.

It took all of her willpower to slowly pull the poster away from her body. The officer's eyes grew wider and wider as the cardboard separated from her skin, revealing increasing amounts of cleavage. The edge of the poster had barely touched his outstretched fingers when he snatched at it greedily and pulled.

Zoe yelped and involuntarily spun around as the poster whipped off her body, giving the officer a full view of her naked form. She shivered under his hungry glare, moving her arms desperately to cover herself.

The officer tore his eyes away from the naked woman in front of him to regard the poster he was now holding. His face contorted with hatred as he looked at Boris Kolmov's face. "Where did you find this?" he spat, looking back at Zoe.

"I-I told you, in the alley over there," Zoe motioned with her chin. "Next to a dumpster."

"Are you a Kolmov sympathizer?" the officer asked, his eyes burning holes into Zoe's skin. "One of his agents?"

"N-no, of course not! Kolmov is a traitor to the revolution! I spit on him!" At this, Zoe made a show of gathering up saliva in her cheeks and spitting on the face of the poster.

The officer watched with bemused interest. "As well you should." He produced a lighter from his pocket. There was a click, and it produced a small, wavering flame. "We must guard our revolution," said the officer, as the flame leapt from his lighter to cardboard poster.

Zoe watched as the face of Boris Kalmov, and her only covering, twisted and blackened under the flames. She forced a wide, bloodthirsty smile, the appropriate response to the destruction of a counter-revolutionary image.

The officer's eyes remained fixed on her body. He was so distracted that the flames licked his fingers before he shouted and released the remains of the destroyed poster. Zoe forcibly suppressed a laugh.

The officer hid his hand behind his back and took a step closer to her. "I think, Comrade Trask, there are better coverings for your body than the traitor Kolmov," he said, taking a strand of her hair between his fingers.

"L-like that correctional uniform?" Zoe asked, pulling back slightly.

"That's one example," said the officer, whose hand had now migrated to her shoulder, and was slowly carressing her bare skin.

Zoe could feel the officer's heavy breath. He was several inches taller than her. <Yvain?!> she signaled desperately. <What do I do? What's the plan?>

<Don't worry, Zoe, you'll get out of this! It's almost done uploading... ninety-five percent...>

The officer's hand was moving further down her arm with each stroke. <What's almost done uploading?>

<Well, it's kind of experimental technology, but the trials have gone really well, so I think it'll work!> Yvain replied excitedly. His thoughtwaves gave off the distinct impression of being more excited about whatever tech he was talking about than worried for Zoe's safety. <Ninety-seven percent... ninety-eight!>

The officer's hand had moved from Zoe's arm to her chin, and he was looking deep into her eyes. Zoe fought to retain a blank expression as she screamed internally. <What are you doing to my mind, Yvain?!>

<Giving you a fighting chance. One hundred percent. It's done.>

At once, Zoe's mind was flooded with images of martial artists fighting each other. Hundreds of men and women flashed before her mind's eye, locked in dances of death. Then she saw herself fighting, saw her arms and legs move as they never had. The feeling spread down from her mind to her body. Her muscles tensed. Memories of bruises and injuries she'd never had surfaced as brief flashes of pain. Zoe felt... powerful. Newly aware of her body and its capabilities.

The sensation of a hand against her lower back brought her back to reality. She'd zoned out for long enough to allow the officer to embrace her with both arms and press his body against hers. One of his hands was caressing her upper back, and the other traveling lower... lower...

A scream of pain tore the night in two as Zoe's knee made contact with the officer's crotch. He staggered backwards, face contorted with tears of rage. "Bitch!" he screamed, fumbling for the truncheon on his belt.

But before he could produce his weapon, Zoe spun around and aimed a roundhouse kick at his face. Her heel connected with his chin, and he collapsed sideways, banging his head on the sidewalk.

<He's unconscious,> Yvain thought. <Nice work, Zoe.>

Zoe stared at her hands and feet in disbelief, the new powers of her limbs still coursing through her. She was shaking with exhilaration. 

<Like I said, new tech, still very experimental, but very promising. These CMRs are good for a lot more than just keeping people brainwashed.>

<I'll say! What else can you do with this?>

A slow clap startled Zoe from her mental conversation and she glanced up. A long, dark black car with tinted windows had pulled up on the side of the street, and a large man in a high-ranking Party official uniform had stepped out. He was smiling at Zoe and clapping.

The man had short, thin hair and a cleanshaven face, but was of a similar age and bodyfat percentage to Boris Kolmov, and looked to hold a similar rank to him. Above a certain level, all Party officials had the same kind of appearance, which marked them as significantly better fed and taken care of than the average citizen.

<That's Heinrich Jorgenson!> thought Yvain, his emotions a tangle of nervous excitement. <He's the second in command of Citizen Safety. What's he doing here?>

<What? Seriously?> Zoe's heart sank. <Yvain, what do we do now? I just beat up an officer in front of a secret police boss!>

<Just wait. Let's see how this plays out. He doesn't seem to be angry or upset with you.>

Zoe was mad. <"Let's see how this plays out?" Really? Maybe you should go fetch some popcorn to watch me get arrested!>

"Good evening, my dear," said Heinrich, as he slowly walked towards Zoe. He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. The sudden physicality reminded Zoe that she was naked, and blush rose to her cheeks.

Henreich glanced down at the unconscious officer. Then, to Zoe's great surprise, he gave the body a swift kick. "Badge number three-five-oh-seven. I will be speaking to his superior about this man's greed." He looked back up at Zoe. "I am sure Romondo will not be happy to hear that his newest girl was accosted like this on her way to Public Service."

<Just nod and go with it, don't act confused,> Yvain thought at her, and Zoe obeyed.

The sides of Henreich's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "That was quite the display. I do so like a feisty lady. And a very daring outfit as well." Henreich winked. "Romondo has outdone himself." For a moment, Henreich stood still as his eyes wandered across Zoe's body.

 Yvain thought at her. <Jorgenson thinks you're his Public Service girl for the evening. How perfect!>

<PERFECT!> Zoe screamed internally. She couldn't believe the gleeful thoughtwaves she was receiving from Yvain, all at the prospect of her being mistaken for a prostitute. <What, do you want to watch? You sick freak!>

<No, listen, please,> Yvain pleaded. <We've been trying to get access to this guy for months. He's a really slippery character—you know how the secret police are, changing names and faces all the time, never appearing in public, ghosts the lot of them! But now, by pure random coincidence, we've got an in!>

Zoe shuddered. <You can't be serious.>

<You want to help the Resistance, right Zoe?>

<Of course I do! That's the whole reason I'm even here right now, naked on the street corner!>

<Well, this could really help us out. Just play along for a bit, get in the car, go back to his place.>

<B-but he'll expect... I mean, I'll have to...>

<Oh, that!> A short, nervous laugh from Yvain echoed across Zoe's mind. <We've got tech that will take care of that!>

Zoe was thoroughly confused. <Really?>

<Yes, of course. Honeytraps have it easy these days with CMRs! Look, when it gets too much for you, just put your thumb behind his ear, against his CMR, and give me the signal. Then I'll breach it and generate a fantasy in his mind. While he's writhing around on the bed, solo-style, you'll be free to search the place and get out.>

<And that'll actually work?>

<It should.>

"Your beauty is very striking against this city backdrop, dear, but you must be getting cold," said Heinrich, taking Zoe's hand once more. "Please, accompany me back to the vehicle."

Zoe smiled weakly at Heinrich and allowed him to lead her by the hand towards the open passenger door of his limousine. She had to step wide to avoid the body of the unconscious officer.

Heinrich placed his other hand on Zoe's hip as he guided her to sit down in the spacious interior of the limousine. The leather was cool against her bare rump.

<Welcome to your first mission, Fighter Zoe,> thought Yvain.

<For the Resistance,> she thought back, as much for his benefit as her own.

To be continued...

Posted: **Fri May 26, 2023 11:05 am**

This was quite well-written! Nice job with the dialogue between Zoe and Yvain, which was quite believable. The situation is a nice twist on the dystopian, and the “it’s the break we’ve been waiting for” moment at the end is perfectly on form for this genre.

Looking forward to more!

Posted: **Thu Jun 01, 2023 5:47 am**

Chapter Two: Scent

The door of the limousine clicked shut, and Heinrich took his seat opposite Zoe, his eyes devouring her. Zoe did her best to smile as the car pulled off noiselessly.

They were alone in the back of the car—all senior Party officials rode in driverless, electric vehicles. For now, Heinrich was content to look at her. As a senior party official, he must have great need for the Public Service, and use it often. That's what all the propaganda said—that men like Heinrich had difficult, stressful jobs, and that the welfare of the people and the defeat of counter-revolutionary forces weighed heavy on their shoulders. It was only logical that they would receive benefits of food, housing, and intimate companionship in excess of that required by workers with less responsibility. Satisfying the urges of these officials was, well, a Public Service.

For her part, Zoe was unsure how to act. She had some experience with men, but no experience as a Public Service girl—volunteering for such a thing repulsed her. Remembering Yvain's exhortation not to cover up, she tried to sit neutrally, with her arms at her sides and her legs slightly parted. She made occasional eye contact with Heinrich, trying her best to smile in a way that seemed inviting.

On one side of the limousine interior sat a small table with a tall bottle of yellowy-white and two conical glasses on long stems. Heinrich reached for the bottle, opened it, and poured out a small measure into each of the glasses. He picked one up and presented it to Zoe.

<I'm gonna need olfactory,> Yvain said. <Your sense of smell. So we can check there's nothing funny in this wine.>

<Wine?> asked Zoe. <I've never had wine before.> In her cannery worker residence, it was a good day when the water was clean. She opened her senses of smell and taste to Yvain as she took the glass by its stem.

Zoe held the glass up to her nose and took a subtle sniff while Heinrich was preoccupied with his own glass.

<Analyzing...> thought Yvain. <Okay, it's clean. Just don't have too much, we need you to stay focused.>

<You don't need to tell me twice,> Zoe thought back. She knew enough about the effects of alcohol to know she shouldn't have too much of it while sitting naked in the back of a strange man's car. She smiled at Heinrich, who was holding his glass towards her, and brought hers up. The glasses clinked.

"To a delightful evening," said Heinrich, winking at her.

Zoe giggled in her most girlish fashion and took a careful sip of the wine. It burned slightly as it went down, and she had to force herself not to cough.

There was barely time for two more sips before the limousine stopped and Heinrich bade her to place her glass back on the table. "We've arrived, my dear," he said, taking her once again by the hand.

Heinrich ushered Zoe out of the limousine. They were in front of a tall, sleek building made of glass and chrome. Zoe suppressed a shudder at once again exposing her body to the night air, and glanced around anxiously for spectators. But again, no-one was around. Heinrich led Zoe up the stone steps in front of the building and through the dark glass doors, which opened automatically as they stepped in front of them.

Inside the building, Zoe immediately locked eyes with a blonde receptionist behind a large desk. "Hello, Comrade Sylvia," boomed Heinrich's voice at her side, "is my room in order?"

"Yes, Comrade Heinrich, all is as you wish it," the lady behind the desk replied. "It has just been cleaned, and we have brought up your computer as requested." If she was in any way surprised at Zoe's state of undress, there was nothing in her expression that betrayed it. She didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Excellent, excellent, I will be able to continue our work with no delays, once my mind and body have been refreshed by Public Service," boomed Heinrich. "I hope the clean-up after last night's entertainment was not too onerous." He winked at Zoe. "You would not care to join us, Sylvia?" At this, Heinrich's hand, which was against Zoe's upper back, pushed her forward slightly, as if displaying her to Sylvia.

"I must continue my work at this post, Comrade," Sylvia said bluntly, keeping her eyes firmly averted from Zoe's body. She was maybe a decade older than Zoe, but still in fine shape, though she had faint lines around her eyes and mouth.

Heinrich laughed. "One day, Comrade, perhaps you will change your mind. Public Service is a great honor."

"From each according to her ability," said Sylvia.

"To each according to his need," finished Heinrich, squeezing Zoe's shoulder forcefully. "Thank you, Sylvia, I will let you know if we need anything."

Heinrich turned and led Zoe towards an elevator. She glanced back at Sylvia, who was still averting her gaze, and silently thanked her for that.

The elevator went all the way to the top floor. Throughout the ride, Zoe could feel Heinrich was becoming more eager and ready for her Public Service—he held her tight to him, his hand moving vigorously up and down her arm. It took all her willpower not to test her new martial arts skills on him. Indeed, it was all she could do to keep her body relaxed and avoid stiffening up at the unwanted touch. The wine helped, a little.

"You're a little tense, my dear," Heinrich purred.

Zoe gulped. Clearly, she was still giving off some negative signals, despite her attempts not to.

Heinrich slipped his arm around her waist as the elevator doors opened, and Zoe forced herself to put her arm around his. As they stepped from the elevator, he glanced down and frowned. "Romondo should have given you some heels, your feet are filthy."

Zoe looked down and blushed, as Heinrich was quite correct. A relatively short time out on the streets had dirtied her feet considerably.

"No matter," continued Heinrich, giving Zoe's waist a reassuring squeeze. "You can take a shower before we begin. I am a patient man."

With this statement, they had reached the door of Heinrich's hotel room. He placed a hand against the palm-print reader, the door clicked open, and Zoe was quickly ushered inside.

The room that awaited them was far, far bigger than any living space Zoe had been in before. Her eyes widened taking it all in. It was at least twice the size of the cannery quarters she had shared with nine other women. That room had been jam-packed with bunk beds, but this one contained merely one, very large bed with fluffy pink sheets and a heart-shaped headboard.

The room also had a large screen on the wall, three leather couches arranged around a glass table near the window, which was opened a crack to let the air in. There was a polished mahogany writing desk against a wall, with a computer on top. Zoe's feet sunk into the carpet, which was softer than any mattress she'd ever slept on. Smooth jazz played softly from an unseen source.

"The shower is right through there," said Heinrich, pointing Zoe towards an ajar door she hadn't previously noticed.

"Thank you," she said, slowly walking towards the door. Conscious of Heinrich's expectant eyes on her, she exaggerated the movement of her hips slightly. For the mission to succeed, it was critical that he never doubted her Public Service experience.

The bathroom was about the same size as her old living quarters, and was bedecked with gleaming porcelain. Zoe had never seen such sparkle. She reached back to pull the door shut, but then thought better of it. Heinrich had already seen her naked body, so what use was hiding, except to make him suspicious? Still, she shut it most of the way, leaving the door ajar.

Unlike everything else here, the shower was fairly small, small enough that Zoe felt reasonably well assured that Heinrich would not be able to follow her in. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped inside and turned on the tap.

Zoe gasped as the water hit her skin. It was so warm! At the cannery, Zoe was used to cold showers, carefully time-limited, though she had had the relative privilege of being able to shower alone. On the brief occasions were there had been hot water, it had scalded her. But this water was just perfect, from the moment she turned on the tap, and she had a feeling that Heinrich, unlike her building manager, would not begrudge her a shower of longer than thirty seconds.

As the water cascaded down her body, Zoe turned to the array of soaps and lotions on the wide shelf behind her. She grabbed one of the pink bottles and unscrewed the lid. It smelled divine. Zoe squirted a large dollop out onto her palm and started rubbing it on her skin.

She started with her shoulders, and soaped down each of her arms. Then she got some of the soap on her back, down and around to her stomach, then up to her breasts... the smell was intoxicating. Zoe soaped down her legs and cleaned her feet thoroughly. She felt really good.

As she massaged the lotion all over her skin, taking in its delightful aroma, she felt a shudder go through her mind. An external shudder.

<Z-Zoe, I...> came the mental voice of Yvain, stuttering and stammering, accompanied with mixed feelings of embarrassment, shame, regret, self-reproach, and deep longing.

For Zoe had forgotten that her senses of sight, hearing and smell were still shared with Yvain. He had clearly also been enjoying the luxury of Zoe's shower. Mortified, she immediately shut him out of all three. <Why didn't you say anything?!> she screamed at him.

<I... I was going to, b-but then... uh, I waited too long... and... well, I have to keep visibility, you know, for the mission... but, uh, well, maybe not of everything... I was going to say something, honest... but it was too late, and I didn't want you to feel embarrassed...>

Zoe felt like her whole body was burning up. Yvain had just sat quietly while she inadvertently gave him a front-row seat to a private and highly sensual shower. That pervert! Who was also her handler! How was she supposed to look him in the eye, let alone have a professional relationship after... after this!

<I'm really sorry, Zoe,> thought Yvain. <You trusted me with access to your senses, and I've abused that trust. I'll understand if you want me to hand over to someone else. Another woman, yes, that might be best... I can introduce you to Violet...>

<No!> The force of Zoe's response surprised her, especially because she was still thoroughly angry with Yvain. But she didn't want to change handlers now, not in the middle of an important and dangerous mission. Whatever Yvain's faults, at least she kind of knew him. <Let's continue the mission.>

<Okay,> Yvain thought back, his words devoid of emotion.

Zoe returned to cleaning herself, though now she moved mechanically, and the joy and luxury of the experience was gone. She scrubbed the rest of her body and then closed the tap and stepped out of the shower in a cloud of steam. She grabbed a fluffy white towel from the towel rail and wrapped it around herself, sighing pleasurably at how it felt against her long-exposed skin, and picked up the hairdryier, a device she was excited to use for the first time. She gave a start as it whirred to life.

<Yvain,> Zoe thought, as she experimentally held the hairdryer at different angles to her head, <do they put tracker chips in towels?> She glanced down again at her covered body.

<Unlikely, but... possible.>

Zoe sighed. <Thought you might say that. I'd like a more definitive answer, though, if you can find one.> Walking from the hotel to her rendezvous with the Resistance in a towel would be far preferable to doing it naked. She couldn't feel any trackers, just silky fabric. Not that they were ever big enough to feel.

Zoe stepped out of the bathroom to find Heinrich seated on the edge of the bed, facing her. He had changed into a red silk robe, which hung open, exposing copious body hair, and smiled toothily at her appearance.

"You smell divine, my dear," he said, "but please, dispense with that thing and let me have a proper look at you."

By "that thing" he of course meant Zoe's towel, and so, mere minutes after finding covering, she was forced to dispense it. Trying not to show displeasure in her expression, Zoe loosened the towel and let it fall to her feet.

Heinrich's smile rose with the towel's fall. "You're glowing, my dear," he said, opening his arms. "Romondo clearly thought that no clothes could enhance your beauty, and he was correct. Come to me."

Steeling herself, Zoe stepped out of the towel and towards the bed. She walked slowly, partly as an attempt to look sexy and seductive, to play the part of the Public Service Girl, but mostly to put off the inevitable. But, even in a large room like this, there just wasn't that much space between the bathroom door and the bed, and soon she was in embracing distance.

Heinrich stood up from the bed, his robe falling further open still, and his arms wrapped around Zoe. He was starting to moan.

Zoe reached up her own hand and caressed Heinrich's face, smiling at him sweetly. Her other hand rubbed the top of his head. She slowly slid her fingers up his chin, and then all the way past his right ear, so that her thumb rested against the slight bump where his CMR was implanted.

<Now,> she thought at Yvain.

<Gotchyu. Uploading...>

There was a tingling sensation in Zoe's hand, like she'd been sitting on it. <Please hurry! I don't like where his hands are going!> Zoe suppressed a squeal as she felt a pinch on her left buttock.

<Okay, it's done. Remove your thumb, and disengage.>

Zoe pulled her hand away from Heinrich's ear. There was a zap of electricity, and she felt a sharp pain in her thumb. She cried out, then stopped herself, putting the hurt thumb in her mouth.

But Heinrich didn't notice anything. His eyes had rolled up into his head, and his whole body spasmed and fell back onto the bed, releasing Zoe. His arms hung in the air above him, still making caressing movements, and his breathing became heavier.

<That'll occupy him for a while. And once he's done, he'll fall asleep. Just stay quiet, and you should have more than enough time to get the information we need.>

Zoe glanced at the computer sitting on top of the mahogany desk. It was a large, slender plate of glass with a matte-black back, remarkably scratch-free. Beneath the screen, a second piece of plastic was attached to it at an angle—this plastic surface was uneven, and had an array of letters, numbers and symbols drawn on it.

<There's no finger interface,> Zoe thought, after studying every side of the smooth plastic. <And what's this other part for?>

<I... can't see what you're talking about,> Yvain replied.

<Oh, right. Guess you need that back again.> Zoe granted access to her eyes, keeping them focused on the computer. She was looking for the feature most computers had, a small hole on the side, big enough for a finger, that would allow the user to control it with their CMR.

<Thank you,> Yvain thought back. <This is old tech. You have to use it with your hands,> Yvain replied. <That thing's called a keyboard. You press the keys to make things happen on the screen. Old guys like Heinrich tend to like this kind of stuff more than CMR interfaces.>

Zoe knew a few older workers at the cannery who refused to use their CMRs for anything. She hadn't realized older people at higher levels were the same.

<You'll have to press a key to wake it up,> Yvain thought at her.

Zoe pushed down the letter A, and the screen turned from reflective black to bright white. Letters across the white surface read, "Authorization required."

<It'll be wanting Heinrich's retina scan,> Yvain told Zoe. <Quick, pick it up and wave it in front of his eyes before he finishes and falls asleep.>

Zoe bit her lip as she gingerly picked up the computer, which was very light, and tip-toed back to the bed. Heinrich was still writhing around, an enormous smile plastered across his face, and had begun thrusting up and down. Holding the screen at arm's length, Zoe maneuvered it over his eyes until the screen turned green, and then brought it back to the desk. The text "Access granted. Welcome, Heinrich," flashed across the screen, and she was in.

As she took in the long list of filenames on screen, Heinrich began to grunt behind her. <The thought of the simulation you fed him is kind of disturbing,> Zoe thought. 

 Yvain said quickly. <There's nothing of you in it, really, beyond superficial appearances.>



<Cut and paste, no backups, I swear! I'm a professional.>

<Says the guy who keeps "standard routines" around. Was that from your personal collection?>

<Keep this up, and you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way next time.>

<Next time?!>

<Only joking! Though you do have experience now...>

The grunting became more forceful, and then there was a sight of relief, followed by silence. A few minutes later, Heinrich was snoring loudly.

<What am I looking at?> asked Zoe. Yvain was guiding her through using the computer, something she hadn't done with her hands since her schooldays, when she was still too young for a CMR.

<These are the files he keeps on his agents. The City has them all over to keep tabs on its enemies. Especially us. Take a look at that one, just below the one we just read.>

Zoe tapped her finger on the screen, and another profile came up. Like all the others they'd seen, it contained a photograph, a name and a bunch of biographic and mission details. She felt a shock of recognition at the photo, a scowling woman with smokey eyes and shoulder-length blonde hair, though she'd never her before. It wasn't her shock of recognition.

<Holy shit, that's Violet!> Yvain's thoughtwaves carried along a frantic sense of panic. <She's—she's one of our top agents!>

Zoe took a moment to realize what Yvain meant. <There are spies in the Resistance?>

<I didn't want to believe it, but there it is. That's definitely Violet. Real name Kirsten Kisin. Deep undercover, multi-year operation. Objective: destroy the Resistance from the inside. This is insane, Zoe. I would have trusted Violet with my life. Hell, I almost handed you over to her earlier.> This last thoughtwave was accompanied by a shudder of regret.

<It's okay, you couldn't have known.> Zoe glanced behind her, at the slumbering hulk of a man lying on the bed. His snoring was getting louder, and he was starting to drool. His gargantuan stomach rose and fell obscenely as he slept, serene and completely oblivious to what was happening right under his nose. This man had a high-placed spy in the Resistance, who had been sabotaging it for years.

Yvain's shock flooded Zoe's mind and she glared hatefully at Heinrich. He was disgusting, a representation of the City that worked her to the bone and bled her dry. The City, and Heinrich, took everything, while destroying any chance of resistance. So secure was he in his power, so arrogant, that he would bring a new strange woman off the street to this room every night and fall asleep with her, fearing nothing.

Woah there Zoe, she thought privately to herself. You're not some kind of super-spy, at least not yet. Right now you're just a naked girl with a line to the Resistance. But maybe that's enough.

<Let's keep going through these files,> thought Yvain, returning to a neutral tone. <If they've got anyone else of ours working for them, we need to know.>

Zoe turned back to the computer and tapped the next file. It was an agent neither of them recognized, carrying out a mission in a foreign country. Many others were the same. They did find one more Resistance spy, but it was a new recruit who had been caught by a drone and jailed on his way to join.

 thought Yvain. <Pretty lousy of the City to keep him in jail for doing their dirty work. But I guess it made for good press.>

<On the news they said he was a major Resistance kingpin.>

<Figures.>

After going through a few more files on the computer, Yvain decided that they'd got everything they could out of it. As there wasn't anything of Heinrich's in the hotel room besides the computer and the pile of his clothes on the floor by the bed, there wasn't anything more to do.

<Shouldn't we install a virus or something?> Zoe asked. <Like, a tracker?>

<Good thinking. Having backdoor access to a major official's computer would be a massive boon for the Resistance, maybe even more useful in the long run than the info we've gotten.>

Under Yvain's direction, Zoe opened a few more windows and typed in some arcane sequences of commands on the thing that Yvain had called a keyboard.

<...and Enter... Awesome, I'm seeing the connection on my side. Mission accomplished, Fighter Zoe.>

Zoe allowed herself a moment to bask in the adulation before her thoughts turned to question of completing her next mission. The original mission, of meeting with the Resistance, which had turned into a midnight streak, and then a honeypot. Now it was time to return to the midnight streak. Unless...

She glanced down at her body. Yep, still naked. Behind her, Heinrich slept soundly, and the towel she'd used was lying where she'd dropped it.

Zoe approached the towel and picked it up hopefully. <Did you ever find out whether towels have trackers in them?>

<You're in luck, they don't,> Yvain thought back. <But they do have monograms. That one's instantly identifiable as property of this hotel.>

<What are you trying to say?>

<Anyone could see you with it, and if you brought it back to HQ...>

<Seriously?!>

<Yes, seriously. This is not a game, Zoe.>

<You're saying that people will be suspicious of a towel, but not a naked woman running around?!> Zoe looked longingly at the fluffy white towel, caressing it with her fingers.

Yvain's thoughtwaves were exasperated. <Look, I know that you think I'm just a big old pervert at this point, but we have to be careful. You've already gotten into trouble with one covering tonight.>

<That cop wouldn't exactly have shown less interest if I hadn't had the poster...>

<How about this: keep the towel for as long as it takes to get out of the hotel, but don't take it out of the building. I'm sure we can figure something out.>

<Okay, that sounds reasonable,> Zoe thought back. <And after that... well, I guess if I have to streak again... for the Resistance!>

<Just don't turn off your sight sharing again, or I won't be able to guide you.>

<Lucky you.> Zoe tightened the towel around herself as she thought this.



A wry smile played across Zoe's features as she reached for the hotel room's door handle. <Glad you admitted it.>

Closing the door softly behind her, Zoe now found herself in the middle of a deserted hallway, with just a white fluffy towel for cover. She wondered what a normal Public Service girl would do at this point. Not even the most brainwashed and devoted girl would sleep beside Heinrich until morning, surely, so maybe they got fetched by this Romondo person and taken home. Obviously that wouldn't happen in her case, but if she just went down to reception and walked out, the receptionist probably wouldn't think it out of the ordinary.

Well, unless she tried to take the hotel's towel with her. Yvain had a point, there. She would have to leave it in the elevator. And considering how deserted this hallway was, she probably wouldn't even be seen by anyone until then.

Perhaps it was more in character for the naked Public Service girl Heinrich had picked up if she put the towel back. Zoe twisted the handle of Heinrich's room door, but the door had locked from the inside. She would keep it then, at least for a short while.

<Someone's coming!> Zoe thought, hearing footsteps around the corner. Not wanting to be caught wandering around in just a towel, Zoe darted to the other side of the hallway and ducked around the far corner. Fortunately, the hotel was not laid out in a straight line.

The footsteps grew closer. Out of curiosity, Zoe peered out of her corner. The footsteps belonged to a blonde woman, who appeared to be heading for the room adjacent to Heinrich's. It was the same blonde woman she'd seen on Heinrich's computer minutes earlier.

<The traitor is here,> Yvain thought darkly. <Probably planning to divulge more of our secrets.>

<Why would she need to do that in person?>

<It's got to be a meeting with someone high up, and old. You saw how Heinrich's computer didn't even have a CMR port. Old people don't know how to use these things. Some of the real high ups don't even have them implanted.>

Zoe was dumbfounded. <Not having a CMR? But, how do they do anything? You can't ride trains, or fetch rations, or get work orders without a CMR.>

<You don't really think the Secretary-General rides the metro or orders his own food, do you?>

The blonde woman, Violet, real name Kirsten, rapped her knuckles sharply against the polished wooden door. There was a click as the door unlocked, and she quickly disappeared inside, without affording Zoe the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the room's occupant.

<Let's see if we can hear what they're talking about in there.>

Ignoring the butterflies in her stomach, Zoe crept towards the door, her bare feet totally silent against the hallway's lush carpet. She pressed an ear against it and granted hearing access to Yvain, but could make out only indistinct murmurs. <Maybe if I had a glass...> she thought.

<No good. They're probably on the other side of the room, near the window.>

<How do you know?>

<That's where the sitting area was in Heinrich's room. I'm sure they're all the same.>

<Damn. I guess it's time to end the mission then. At least we got the dirt on Violet.>

<Not so fast, Zoe, I've got an idea.>

There was a sinking feeling in Zoe's stomach. <Oh?>

<Look, do you see that window to your left?>

<Yes.> Zoe glanced at the tall window, showing the night sky.

<I've pulled up the blueprints for this building, as well as some aerial photographs, and we're in luck. The room they're meeting in is right on the corner, and there's a ledge that goes around from that window to the outside of the room. You might be able to hear better from there. Especially if the window's open, like it was in Heinrich's room>

Zoe took another glance at the tall window to her left, and the impressive vista of the city that unfolded beneath it. <I... don't know if I like your ideas, Yvain.> She gingerly stepped towards the window and looked at the ledge beneath it. It was wider than she had been expecting, but not by much. <That's a lot of ifs and maybes for me to climb out a top floor window for...>

 thought Yvain, utter emotionless professionalism. <If she's meeting with someone who stays on the same hotel floor as Heinrich Jorgenson, it must be about something big. She's got to be their most highly placed spy—I still can't believe she's a spy! We have to know what they're talking about. It could be the end of the Resistance otherwise—woah, what was that?>

 Zoe thought. <Felt like you should get to feel some of this wind as well.> For she was now standing on the ledge outside the hotel window, her towel-covered back pressed against the rough brick wall, the wind whipping her long hair across her face.



As she inched sideways across the ledge, Zoe knew she had never felt this terrified before. She'd forced herself out of the window and onto the ledge by avoiding thinking too hard about what she was doing, but the slow process of her movement gave her plenty of time to dwell on it now. <Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down!> she thought furiously, wanting Yvain to feel a bit of her panic.

<You'll be fine, Zoe, just go slowly,> Yvain thought, his thoughtwaves buttressed with a deep calm. <The wind's dying down a bit.>

And indeed it was. Zoe inched slowly towards, and then around, the corner of the wall. The bricks of the wall were rough against her tightly pressed hands, and the stone of the ledge was cold against her feet. Her towel seemed to be shifting slightly as she dragged it across the wall. The fold on the right side of her chest that held it together appeared to be loosening.

<Stop here. We're right near the window, and it appears to be open,> Yvain thought at Zoe, describing what they both could see perfectly well out of her own eyes. <Good thing we're having this heatwave. I am surprised the hotel isn't air-conditioned though.>

<It's broken,> Zoe replied, remembering a sign she'd spotted behind the receptionist's desk.

<A place like this, that's surprising. Encouraging though. Another crack in the regime!>

<A shame though. I've always wondered what air-conditioning felt like. We had the units at school, but they never worked. Whenever I asked the teachers about them, they would say that the air-conditioning was going to get fixed in a few weeks. It never did.>

<My school said that about the leaks in the roof.>

A self-impressed female voice reached Zoe's ears. "... I've arranged to meet Manuel tonight at the location we discussed earlier. He's very eager."

Zoe knew the significance of the name. Manuel Silva was the leader of Resistance and a symbol to all dissidents within the City and beyond. <If she's not lying, this is massive,> thought Yvain.

"Really? That's quite impressive. Will he be accompanied?" The other voice was male, deep and gravelly from a lifetime of smoking.

"His bodyguards will be around of course, but not too close. I shouldn't have any trouble getting him alone."

"Are you quite sure? This is the leader of the counter-revolutionary forces, a man who has evaded our grasp for years. Most of the City believes him to be a myth, such is his slipperiness."

<Even we have difficulty contacting him. I'm recording this audio right now and streaming it directly to the closest contact I have to Manuel.> Zoe's heart soared at the thought, and she couldn't help but squirm a little with delight. On her first night as a Resistance member, she was already foiling a plot against Manuel's life. The thought was almost good enough to take her mind off the way her towel continued to loosen.

The woman, Violet, chuckled softly. "Oh, he's a flesh-and-blood man, just like you. And men have needs. Not all men are as ravenous as Comrade Jorgenson, some can control themselves a little better, but for the right woman, a man will do anything."

"And you tell me that you have convinced this Manuel, a legend among our enemies, who could no doubt have his pick of traitorous capitalist women, that the right woman for him is yourself?"

"We have a connection. Perhaps, deep down, he can sense that my heart is purer than the counter-revolutionary whores he has dabbled with before."

<Surely Manuel could not be fooled like this!> thought Yvain.

<Men can be pretty dumb about some stuff,> Zoe replied. The wind picked up, and her towel billowed in front of her. She felt a jolt of anticipation from Yvain. <Case in point,> she snapped. <Keep your mind off my towel and on the mission.>

"Are you saying he suspects you?" asked the man in the hotel room.

"Not at all, I speak metaphorically," Violet replied. "He trusts me absolutely. You will give me until twenty-seven minutes past three to disarm him. Have your men in place around the location. As the clock strikes that time, give the order, and they will apprehend Manuel and his lover, cutting the head off of the reactionary forces."

There was a long pause before the man spoke next. "Comrade Kirsten, if you did not come highly recommended by Jorgenson himself, I would send you away and have your superior discipline you for wasting time. But as you have this recommendation, I will do as you say. That you are young and beautiful undoubtedly tinges Jorgenson's judgement somewhat, but I have never known him yet to place faith in an inferior agent. Go now. My men will be proceed you to your destination."

"Thank you, Comrade Umbert. I will add one last wrinkle to the plan. If your men do not witness me entering the room we have spoken of, the operation is off. I am not so arrogant as to assume my own infallibility."

"You know the consequences for failure."

"Yes, Comrade. Good night."

There came the sound of rustling clothes and footsteps fading away, and then the creak of a door opening. After the door had creaked closed again, Zoe waited some time to make sure she didn't re-enter the hallway window while Violet was still present. Without the conversation to focus on, the only sounds she heard were the wind and her own heavy breathing. So far, she hadn't looked down once.

<Okay, the coast should be clear. I'm still waiting for a reply from Manuel's guy, but we've done all we can here. Awesome work, Zoe.>

Zoe forced herself to smile and focus on Yvain's praise as she began to inch sideways again. Her towel had gotten very loose at the top, and had slipped down to reveal a lot of cleavage. She could feel it sticking to the brick wall, and tried to pull at it with her fingers to keep it on course.

As she turned the corner, the fold at the top finally came fully apart, and the wind whipped it open. Her naked front was immediately exposed to a strong gust of wind.

<Woah!> thought Yvain. 

<How do you think I feel!> Zoe blasted him. <The least you can do is show some solidarity from your comfy office!>

<It's not that comfy,> Yvain retorted. <This chair is murder on my back, y'know.>

It was at precisely that moment that Zoe's quick sideshuffle coincided with another strong gust of wind. The towel, momentarily loosened from its position between the rough brick wall and Zoe's back by her movement, was caught at once.

Zoe yelped as the towel vanished from sight. She pressed her back, butt and legs hard against the wall, hoping to catch it, but felt only rough brick.

<Don't do that again, someone might hear you!> Yvain thought frantically.

<S-sorry.> Zoe sheepishly continued sidestepping, all too aware of the cold wind on every part of her body.

<I'm sorry about the towel,> thought Yvain.

After what felt like a lifetime, Zoe's hand traded rough brick for the smooth metal frame of the tall hallway window. She inched the last little way, and then dropped in a heap on the lush carpeting, her body shaking all over.

<That was a really good job,> thought Yvain. 

Shaking, Zoe picked herself up from the carpet. <That sounds great.>

To be continued...

Posted: **Thu Jun 22, 2023 1:07 pm**

Chapter Three: Sensation

Zoe darted down the hotel hallway, her bare feet soundless against the plush carpet. As many times as she repeated Yvain's words to herself, that the difficult, dangerous part of her mission was over with, she couldn't quite believe it. She was still on the top floor of a hotel frequented by high-ups in the secret police, and she still had to make her way down to ground level. Doing so in nothing but a towel would have been bad enough, but now she had to do it naked.

Her chest rising and falling with her breath, Zoe reminded herself of how much she'd already been through tonight. She had also been naked when she beat up that officer, and when she infiltrated Heinrich's computer. Most importantly, she'd been naked when she entered this hotel, and the lady at the front had paid her no mind. All she needed to do now was get back down there and exit the building as inconspicuously as a naked woman could.

The elevator was too dangerous, she decided. If she bumped into someone now, they would certainly have questions for her. Should she cling to the cover story of being a Public Service girl, someone might request her service, and she would have no choice but to assent, which would waste valuable time.

That was her rational reason for seeking out the fire escape, and the one she communicated to Yvain. Her irrational reason was that she was fucking naked and would rather die than let even more see her like this! She'd already showed her body to too many people tonight.

The fire escape was dimly lit, and the metal steps creaked and clanged under Zoe's feet. She had barely gone two flights down when she heard a door open below her.

Biting her lip, Zoe darted back up a couple of stairs, putting a wall between herself and the eyes of whoever was shuffling through the door that had just opened. Hardly daring to breathe, she pressed her back up against the wall and instinctively clutched her breasts and crotch.

The footsteps of the other person on the fire escape became fainter, indicating that they were going down.

<Whoa,> thought Yvain, projecting a mixture of feelings Zoe recognized from her shower, but more intense. It was then that she realized she was still sharing her sense of touch with him.

Blushing furiously, Zoe yanked her hands away from her crotch and breasts. <Omigod!> she thought. <Sense of touch revoked!>

<G—good, now I don't have to feel the cold anymore,> Yvain replied, clearly disappointed.

Zoe continued down the stairs, her arms awkwardly hovering in the air. It was okay to cover herself up again, but she couldn't get the sensation of Yvain's reaction to feeling her most intimate parts out of her mind. At the same time, walking without covering herself made her feel even more exposed. But she couldn't touch any part of herself without feeling like someone else's hands were there. Someone who really, really wanted her.

<I—I'm going to take it as a compliment,> Zoe thought.

<Permission to speak unprofessionally for a moment, Fighter Zoe?> Yvain appeared to have regained his usual cool and collected demeanour.

<Permission granted.>

<You've got an extremely sexy body.>

Zoe smiled and reminded herself that she had given him her sense of touch in the first place. This had been surprising and unexpected, but he'd done nothing wrong, really. Better for him to react than to keep quiet about it.

She already knew he thought she was sexy and sincerely meant it, but it was nice that he put it into words. It made her feel a bit more confident. <Thank you.>

The rest of Zoe's descent was uneventful. The person below her had reentered the main building without noticing the naked woman above them, and nobody else came through the fire escape while she was there.

Now that they were past the awkwardness of the unexpected touch, Zoe and Yvain's mental conversation resumed its normal tone. <Have you heard anything from Manuel's people yet? Is he aware of the trap?> Zoe asked.

<No,> thought Yvain, not hiding his frustration. <It's been complete radio silence. They are known for being difficult to get anything out of though. And we've got a while to go before Violet's plan kicks into action.>

 Zoe thought back. <And that he believes it. Violet is not pretty enough to be worth destroying the Resistance over.>



Finally, Zoe reached the bottom of the stairwell. The door to the ground floor stood a few feet away from her. She pressed her ear against it. Silence. Then she opened it just a crack and peeked through.

The hotel lobby was as empty as it had been when she had come in—that is, Sylvia the receptionist was still there, sitting behind her desk wearing a blank expression.

The thought of purposefully exposing herself to someone made Zoe's heart drop into her feet, even though Sylvia had already seen her and not reacted at all. Would she behave differently now that Zoe was on her own, unaccompanied by a party high-up? Would she be suspicious? Would she be mean?

Maybe she would be both, but for Zoe's part, she would give Sylvia as little reason as possible to do either. She took a few deep breaths, shook some of the tension out of her limbs, put a smile on her face and told herself she was sexy. Then she pushed open the fire escape door and walked out.

Sylvia's attention was immediately captured by the naked woman walking out of the fire escape. She looked at her steadily, only the faintest hint of a blush rising to her cheeks. "Good night, comrade," she said evenly. "There was no need to take the fire escape. The elevator is in perfect working condition."

Zoe smiled sweetly and thought quickly. "Gotta keep this in tip-top shape," she said, gesturing at her body.

"Indeed," Sylvia said coldly. Her cold gray eyes looked Zoe up and down from behind steel-rimmed spectacles. "We must all do our part for the Revolution."

Zoe immediately regretted calling attention to her naked body, heroically forcing down a blush. Sylvia would be suspicious if the naked Public Service girl suddenly became self-conscious. "Good night, Comrade Sylvia," she said, turning and walking briskly to the exit. She could feel the woman's disapproving look against her bare, shifting buttocks. I'm not normally like this, she wanted to say.

Back out on the dark city streets, Yvain directed Zoe to turn left, and she hurried down the road and away from the hotel. <The safehouse isn't far from here. Just walk quickly, keep your head down, and don't run into any more police.>

<Got it. Don't run into any—shit.> As Zoe's eyes swept across the street ahead of her, they came to rest in direct contact with a pair of brilliant green eyes framed by dark lashes and a bouncy blonde haircut. <How is she still here?!>

Violet looked just as surprised to see Zoe as Zoe was to see Violet. Their eyes mirrored each other in size, and both stood frozen. The flames of panic erupted across Zoe's mind, but were doused by a torrent of calm from Yvain. <At least we know she hasn't met up with Manuel yet. Calm down Zoe, she hasn't ever seen you before. Just act natural.>

<I'm acting too natural, that's the problem!> As much of a relief as it was to know that Violet had no reason to attack or try to arrest Zoe, there was still the matter of her being a relative stranger, who was staring wide-eyed at Zoe's naked body in the middle of the City.

"Comrade!" Violet cried, her expression softening at once to one of deep sympathy. She started at once towards Zoe, the soles of her boots clacking loudly on the road. "What happened to you? You must be cold!"

"I-it's a warm night," Zoe replied, cringing. The nonchalant facade she'd put up for Sylvia's benefit was quickly cracking. There was a hard limit to the number of people she could tolerate seeing her naked in one night, and she was running right up against it.

"Here," Violet said, shrugging off her elegant, full-length leather coat. "Please, put this on. I will escort you back to your quarters."

Zoe stared at the coat with a mixture of longing and dread. <What should I tell her? Do I keep up the Public Service story?>

<Put on the coat.>

<Wait, what?> Zoe couldn't believe that Yvain had just instructed her to put on a coat that was certainly microchipped, and the property of a spy no less. But there was no way to mishear thoughts.



Zoe fought to keep the flood of conflicting feelings from showing on her face as she gratefully accepted the coat from Violet and draped it over her shoulders. The leather was sleek and cool against her skin, and she was grateful to hide her most intimate parts from the world as she tied the belt at the front.

Violet was wearing a form-fitting, shoulderless red dress that flared out at the bottom and ended just above her ankle-length brown boots. Sheer stockings covered her legs. Having transferred her coat to Zoe, they were now both showing similar amounts of skin. "Show me where your quarters are, comrade," she said, touching Zoe's leather-clad elbow.

<Lead her along the path I give you,> Yvain commanded. <And be ready for action.>

Zoe gulped. She couldn't believe what Yvain was asking her to do—take down a high-ranking regime spy as part of her first mission! Things just kept getting crazier. Still, it had all gone well enough so far.

She led Violet down the quiet street, following Yvain's directions. As they walked, Zoe thanked Violet profusely for her kindness, and gave her a fake name and story. As Violet had not seen Zoe emerge from the hotel, she and Yvain thought it better to reuse Justine Trask, the nude sleepwalker.

"Does this happen to you a lot?" Violet asked.

"Oh no, I don't usually sleepwalk this far!" Zoe answered. "But I think I will have to start wearing pajamas again."

"Fortunately we live in an age of plenty, where such things are freely available on the basis of need," Violet replied. "They say that under capitalism, workers owned but a single outfit and were forced to sleep naked. In warm countries, they would labor naked part of the year to prevent their clothes from wearing out."

Zoe had learned similar things in school. The stories were intended to make students grateful for their scratchy, shapeless overalls and starched underclothing.

<Pure propaganda,> Yvain thought contemptuously. <The City provides you with two pairs of overalls and three sets of underwear, and it wants you to believe that represents abundance.>

As they walked, Zoe's eyes were continuously drawn to Violet's dress. She had never been so close to an outfit like this, made for aesthetics rather than mere utility. Of course, she had seen important women in the party wearing such things in the distance, and she had seen Public Service girls wearing ragged, skimpy versions, but in her daily life she rubbed shoulders with mass-manufactured overalls. She had owned a dress, but it was made of the same coarse fabric as her overalls and hardly looked better.

Violet's leather coat felt better than anything Zoe had ever worn before, and she regretted that it would soon be necessary to discard it.

<Down this alley,> Yvain thought. <Tell her it's a shortcut.>

"It's just down here," Zoe said, ushering Violet down a narrow alley. "I don't want to wake any of the other girls up, so I'll take the back entrance."

As they walked down the alley, Zoe slowed and allowed Violet to walk past her. Violet looked up at the brick walls and steel staircases and asked which one led to Zoe's quarters. The alley was dark, so Violet didn't notice Zoe untying the belt of her leather coat.

The sides of the coat slumped apart, exposing Zoe's front as she pulled the belt out of its loops and gripped it tightly in both hands. With quick and totally silent steps, she positioned herself directly behind Violet, whose attention was still on the walls. "It's right over... here!"

Zoe flung the belt over Violet and pulled it tight, pinning the blonde woman's arms to her sides. Before Violet could cry out, a leather sleeve forced itself into her mouth, muffling any sound she could make. Her hands scrambled frantically against her thighs, pulling up the bottom of her dress and revealing the straps of a black garter-belt.

<She's got a gun!> Yvain directed Zoe's attention to the large black shape pressed between one strap of the garter and Violet's milky thigh. <Grab it before she does!>

Still holding the leather belt in place with one hand, Zoe reached for the gun. With a muffled scream, Violet scratched at the back of her hand, her long red nails leaving painful marks across it. Zoe gritted her teeth and headbutted Violet.

The two woman collapsed into a squirming heap, struggling on the asphalt. Zoe's hand grabbed the gun and managed to wrest it from Violet's garter. At the same moment, Violet spat out the sleeve of the leather coat. She opened her mouth to scream, but was winded by a knee from Zoe, which was followed by a kick, breaking the struggle apart. Both women came apart and scrambled to their feet, panting.

Violet's makeup was smeared, her stockings had runs, and her dress was torn, its lower part hiked up to her waist, revealing both lacy black panties and the top of her garter-belt. Her leather coat lay in a heap at her feet, and its former wearer stood naked before her, pointing a gun at her head.

"If you try to scream I'll shoot," Zoe said, panting and shaking, but holding the pistol firm in both hands.

<Nice work, Fighter Zoe!> thought Yvain.

Zoe smiled weakly for a second, but her face quickly returned to a hard expression. Blood dripped from where Violet had scratched her, and the wind once against whipped across her bare skin. She was naked again, but there was something about holding a gun that made that feel almost irrelevant. The cold metal brought back memories of her mandatory military service, during which she'd discovered herself to be an excellent shot.

Violet appeared to consider defiance for a moment, but ultimately decided against it. "I have nothing worth stealing," she whispered. "This dress, perhaps, but it's ruined now."



"I don't want your stuff, Violet," Zoe said. "But you are going to come with me."

Violet's eyes widened at the use of her name—she had introduced herself as Kirsten. "C-comrade," she stammered, "y-you are going to blow my cover!"

A confession, so quickly. "That's the plan," Zoe replied. "The Resistance knows all about your true loyalties, Violet. We know what you had planned tonight."

A brief battle raged across Violet's countenance, and then flattened itself into a blank expression. "I see," she said. "You must be a new recruit. I don't suppose you would consider that I might be double agent."

Doubt flickered across Zoe's face for a brief moment. <A likely story!> Yvain scoffed. <What kind of double agent seduces and plots to bring down the leader of the Resistance?>

Zoe didn't think it was totally impossible, but such a scheme hinted at a web of intrigue beyond her ability or desire to reason out at just that moment. <Manuel's people still haven't gotten back to you, have they?>

<Just bring her in,> Yvain continued, clearly sensing Zoe's doubts and ignoring her question. <If we're interrupting some kind of five-dimensional chess game Manuel's playing with the City, I'll take the fall for it. But just think about how ridiculous that sounds! She's trying to trick you, Zoe.>

"I don't believe you," Zoe said, returning her full attention to the real world and the woman at the other end of the gun. "And I'm not willing to risk Manuel's life."

Violet smiled cruelly. "How sweet of you," she said. "Do you think he's handsome? Is that why you joined the Resistance? A girlish crush on a criminal?"

Zoe blushed slightly, but kept her aim trained on Violet. "I joined the Resistance to fight against people like you."

Violet laughed. "And was it your idea to do it naked? Maybe you thought to catch Manuel's eye?"

"N-no," Zoe stammered.

Violet made a show of derisively looking up and down Zoe's body. "Take it from me, sweetheart, he likes curvy blondes." She cocked a hip haughtily.

<Don't let her distract you!> Yvain thought.

 Zoe thought back. <Those panties don't leave a lot to the imagination.>

"I'm sure you've got a handler telling you how full of shit I am right now," Violet mused. "He—and I know it's a he—must have also told you some story about microchips in clothing, gotten you to strip off for his pleasure."

<It's all true! Remember the videos!> Yvain projected snippets of footage into Zoe's mind, showing factory workers sewing microchips into overalls. She'd seen the videos before, when Yvain was explaining their initial plan, the one that involved changing clothes on the train.

 Zoe thought back.

"I'm sure he even has documentation to back it up," Violet continued. "They're very clever, these counter-revolutionaries. They even fooled me, for a while."

"Shut up!" Zoe hissed.

Violet lowered her voice, but continued speaking. "They'll take us right back to the days of corporate slavery, you know. You've already got a preview of that tonight. The City is not perfect, I will admit that. But these Resistance fighters can't even provide you with a pair of pants. How do you think they would run our City?"

Zoe's grip tightened on the pistol. She was getting very tired of listening to Violet talk as though she had the upper hand in this situation, standing there defenseless with her smudged makeup and ruined dress. It seemed like Violet didn't have a proper appreciation for her current predicament.

Zoe waved the gun menacingly, to remind her who was in control. At the same moment, a breeze sweeping across her nethers made her shiver.

<Zoe, you know how important it is not to be tracked,> Yvain cut in. <Seeing as you'll be taking Violet here to the rendezvous point, you're going to have to make sure she's not tracked as well. If you get my meaning.>

That would take Violet down a peg. Grinning, Zoe gave Violet another command. "Strip. Now."

Violet gasped, instantly losing her smug expression. For the first time, she appeared genuinely ill at ease, despite having had a gun in her face for the last few minutes. "What—you can't—"

Zoe adjusted her grip on the pistol. "I can, and I will. Lose the dress."

Violet scowled, but obediently slipped her fingers under the hem of her dress and slowly began to pull. The dress slid up past the top of her garters, over her soft stomach and hitched for a moment on her breasts. She gave it another pull, and her sizable breasts dropped out the bottom, barely restrained by a lacy and mostly see-through bra.

<Damn, Manuel was in some serious trouble tonight,> thought Yvain, projecting a familiar, hungerlike feeling into Zoe's mind.

<Hey! Keep your mind the mission, pal,> Zoe snapped back. In a moment of jealousy, she glanced down at her own, smaller breasts, and found herself pleased to sense Yvain's arousal. Smiling, she looked up again, just in time for Violet to unhook her bra.

The bra fell away, and Zoe begrudgingly admitted to herself that Violet had pretty nice boobs. But what pleased her much more was the increasingly bright shade of red Violet's face was turning.

"I bet your handler is loving this," Violet said, hooking her thumbs into the sides of her lacy black panties. She pulled them down quickly, trying not to make a show of it, and then started undoing her garters. Her pussy was hairless, probably shaved especially for the night's mission of seduction and entrapment. She was a few inches shorter than Zoe, and even more curvy than the dress had advertised. "Tada," she said flatly.

At Zoe's instruction, Violet stepped out of her boots and pulled off her stockings, making a disgusted face as she did so. "There, we're even."

Zoe made Violet gather all of the discarded clothes together. As much as Zoe wanted to put them on herself so she could be comfortable and warm while she drove the naked traitor ahead of her at gunpoint, the risk of tracking seemed too great. With great reluctance, she ordered Violet to toss the bundle of clothing onto one of the steel staircase landings to their side.

"Now for the other tracker," said Zoe, stepping towards Violet. Violet squealed but made no real protest as Zoe touched her behind the right ear. There was a spark of electricity, and a low moan from Violet.

<I've shut her CMR off,> confirmed Yvain.

"Let's go," Zoe said, keeping her gun trained on Violet and motioning towards the entrance to the alley with her chin.

"What, seriously?" Violet protested. "Like this?!" She motioned animatedly at her body, causing it to jiggle in a way Yvain found quite pleasing.

"I can tie you up and leave you here, if you prefer," Zoe said flatly, glancing at the clothes on the landing above them. "I'm sure your... comrades... would love to find you here."

Violet gulped and made no further verbal protest. Limbs shaking, body bursting into a blush, she scrambled ahead of Zoe, who, for her part, walked with about as much calm as could be expected. Between the gun in her hand, the extreme embarrassment of her prisoner, and the dulling effect of her hours of exposure, Zoe felt almost confident.

Zoe and Violet kept to the shadows as Yvain led them on a winding path to the rendezvous point. Violet would occasionally whine about being cold or humiliated, and would try every now and then to appeal to Zoe's own discomfort to get her to abandon the mission, but to no avail.

"Listen to me, Zoe, just block out your handler and turn around. You're a brilliant, brave woman. The City needs people like you. Turn your back on this Resistance nonsense, and I'll help you. I've got high connections, you know. A life of luxury can be yours."

"Shut up," Zoe snapped, forcibly turning her mind away from the memory of cool leather against her skin.

The rest of their walk was uneventful. They passed a couple of patrol drones, but as Zoe's CMR was hacked and Violet's was disabled, the drones took no notice of them.

The rendevouz point was behind an unassuming, unmarked door near the edge of the City's central district. While keeping a firm eye and gun on Violet, Zoe tapped out the complicated knock that Yvain had told her to make. There was no answer.

"It's three taps there, not two," said Violet acerbicly, a reminder of her longstanding membership of the Resistance.

Zoe tapped again, and the door instantly fell open. A tall man with a mane of unruly black hair stood behind it, holding a large fur coat. His eyes widened briefly at the two naked women in front of him, but quickly returned to normal. When he spoke, it was with a voice that Zoe had never heard with her ears before, but recognized instantly.

"Welcome to the Resistance, Fighter Zoe," said Yvain, looking steadily into Zoe's eyes.

Two more men appeared behind Yvain to seize a scowling, cursing and very embarrassed Violet by both arms, allowing Zoe to relax her gun arm. Both made facial expressions like they'd died and gone to heaven. "Anton! Wexler! Unhand me!" Violet screeched, but it was to no avail as the men dragged her inside.

A smile spread across Zoe's face as she collapsed into Yvain's arms, allowing him to envelope her with the large fur coat.

He took the gun from her hand and lobbed it across the street. Then, closing the door in front of them, he said, "We've gotta get going, there might have been trackers in that gun. We'll take the tunnels."

Zoe's face whitened. She hadn't even considered the possibility. "What? Why didn't you say anything about that?"

"It was more important for you to take in Violet," Yvain said. "We can get a lot out of her in interrogation." He glanced down the corridor at Violet's squirming naked form, being carried out of sight by the two men.

Zoe followed his eyes and made a small sound of displeasure.

"She's got a nice butt," said Yvain, "but I like yours better, Fighter Zoe." One of his arms had somehow ended up inside the coat, against Zoe's bare back.

"Right answer," Zoe said, closing her eyes for the kiss.

The End

Posted: **Thu Jun 22, 2023 7:34 pm**

This was very well done. I appreciate the senses being used as focal points for each section, and while
I would have loved to see a little more of this world you created, the ENF portion is the focus here and it was executed nicely. Zoe’s moments of panic were great!

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