The VIP entrance to The Velvet Garden occupied an unmarked doorway between a pawn shop and a shuttered warehouse. Arthur approached at precisely nine o'clock, his charcoal suit crisp despite the evening humidity. A single security camera tracked his movement, and the door clicked open before he could knock.
The interior corridor was narrow, lit by recessed fixtures that cast everything in warm amber. A woman waited at the far end—tall, elegant, with silver hair swept into an intricate updo and a dress that probably cost more than most people earned in a month.
"Jason Borne," she said, her voice carrying the practiced neutrality of someone who trafficked in secrets. "I'm Sienna. Viper speaks highly of you."
"She's generous with her praise."
Sienna's smile was professional, revealing nothing. "Walk with me."
She led him through a series of corridors that seemed designed to disorient, turning left and right at irregular intervals. Arthur committed the route to memory, counting steps and noting architectural features. They emerged into a small office furnished with expensive minimalism—a desk, two chairs, nothing more.
"Viper indicated you have specific tastes," Sienna said, settling into one chair and gesturing for Arthur to take the other. "The Velvet Garden caters to exclusive clientele with particular requirements. What exactly are you seeking?"
Arthur had prepared for this question during the walk over. "Companionship. Nikke companionship, specifically. I understand your establishment offers services that standard entertainment venues cannot provide."
"We do." Sienna's expression remained neutral, but her eyes assessed him with predatory calculation. "Such services require substantial financial commitment and absolute discretion. You understand that what happens within our walls stays within our walls?"
"Completely."
"Good." She produced a data pad from her desk drawer. "Initial membership requires a fifty-thousand-credit deposit. This grants you access to our standard offerings. Premium services—including extended companionship arrangements—are negotiated separately based on specific requests."
Arthur activated his omni-tool, transferring the credits without hesitation. Andersen had provided him with a substantial operational budget, and this was exactly the kind of expense the mission required.
Sienna's data pad chimed confirmation. Her professional mask cracked slightly, genuine interest flickering through. "Efficient. I appreciate that. Your membership is now active." She stood, extending a slim card embossed with silver filigree. "Your introduction meeting is scheduled for tomorrow evening at nine. The location will be provided twelve hours in advance. Bring the card. Don't be late."
"Where will the meeting be held?"
"You'll receive location details tomorrow afternoon. Security protocols." Sienna moved toward the door, clearly ending the conversation. "Welcome to The Velvet Garden, Mr. Borne. I think you'll find our services exceed expectations."
Arthur left through the same disorienting corridors, emerging into the entertainment district's neon chaos. Viper materialized from a shadowed alcove two blocks away, falling into step beside him.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"I'm in. Meeting tomorrow night at nine. Location to be provided twelve hours before."
Viper's expression tightened. "That's their standard security practice. They change meeting locations constantly, use different venues to avoid establishing patterns." She pulled out her phone, typing rapidly. "Let me check something."
They walked in silence for several minutes while Viper worked. Finally, she stopped beneath a flickering streetlight, her face illuminated in alternating shadows and harsh white light.
"I know which venue they're using tomorrow," she said quietly. "There's a pub called The Garden Gate in the industrial sector. It's owned by a man named Marcus Webb. He has a thing for Nikkes—collects them. Not all of them work as employees, if you understand what I'm saying."
Arthur's jaw tightened. "Personal use."
"Yeah." Viper's voice carried an edge of disgust. "Exotic Squad has had eyes on him for months, but we haven't been able to build a case solid enough to move on. He's protected by someone high up in the chain."
"What's your plan once you get inside?" she asked after a moment.
Arthur considered his response carefully. "Guest list. If high-ranking officials are involved, I need to identify them before they can run or destroy evidence. This might be my only shot at seeing who's actually running this operation."
Viper studied his face, then reached out and took his hand. Her fingers intertwined with his, warm despite the evening chill. "Is this too much?" she asked softly. "On top of fighting Raptures, leading the Monarks, running the Outpost—now you're doing cloak-and-dagger intelligence work. That's a lot, Arthur."
"Those twelve Nikkes are still missing," Arthur said. "Still being used, abused, treated as property. If I don't do this, who will? The officials blocking the investigation certainly won't."
Viper was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I have a suggestion. We leave Webb alone after tomorrow. Use him to gather more intel on his other operations, identify the full network. It would save more Nikkes in the long run."
"No."
The word came out flat, final. Viper's eyebrows rose.
"Every day we leave him operational is another day those Nikkes suffer," Arthur continued. "I'm not interested in the long game if it means sacrificing the people already trapped in this system. We find the evidence, we extract the victims, and we burn the whole operation down."
Viper's smile was slow and genuine. "That's what I thought you'd say." She squeezed his hand. "In that case, I'm coming with you."
"Viper—"
"Disguised as your personal Nikke," she continued, overriding his objection. "Webb respects people who own Nikkes for personal use. Having me with you will give you credibility, make him more willing to accommodate you. And if things go sideways, you'll have backup inside the building."
Arthur wanted to argue, to keep her out of the direct line of danger. But Viper's logic was sound, and more importantly, trying to protect her by excluding her would insult everything they'd built together.
"Alright," he said. "But we're careful. No unnecessary risks."
"Honey, I'm Exotic Squad. Unnecessary risks are my specialty." She pulled him close and kissed him, fierce and possessive. "But for you, I'll be careful."
The next evening arrived with the location confirmation: The Garden Gate, nine o'clock sharp. Arthur dressed in the same charcoal suit, adding his concealed handgun and ensuring his omni-tool was fully charged. Viper met him outside the pub wearing a different outfit than her usual—a sleek black dress that emphasized her figure, with her usual collar.
"Ready?" Arthur asked.
Viper's red eyes glinted in the dim light. "Let's go rescue some Nikkes."
The pub's exterior was nondescript, but the security checkpoint inside the entrance told a different story. Two guards—human, professional, armed—verified Arthur's membership card and scanned both him and Viper with handheld devices.
"Follow the blue lights," the first guard said, his tone perfunctory.
The blue lights formed a path along the floor, leading them through a service corridor, down a flight of stairs, through what appeared to be a storage area, and finally to an unmarked door. Arthur pushed it open and stepped into The Garden Gate proper.
The pub's interior was elegant in a calculated way—dark wood paneling, soft lighting, leather booths arranged for privacy. But what dominated Arthur's attention were the Nikkes working throughout the space. Serving drinks, clearing tables, standing decoratively near the bar. All of them wore the same subtly vacant expression, the look of people who'd learned to retreat somewhere deep inside themselves.
Arthur felt rage coiling in his chest. Viper's hand brushed against his, a gentle reminder.
*Act like a Commander who views them as playthings*, her touch seemed to say.
Arthur forced his expression into neutral interest, the look of someone evaluating merchandise rather than witnessing abuse. It made him sick, but maintaining cover was essential.
"Mr. Borne!" A jovial voice cut through the ambient conversation. Marcus Webb approached with the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable. He was middle-aged, well-dressed, with the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. "Sienna told me to expect you. Welcome, welcome! And I see you brought your own companion. Excellent taste."
Viper lowered her eyes demurely, playing the role of compliant property. Arthur kept his hand on the small of her back, possessive.
"I understand you offer premium services," Arthur said.
"Oh yes, the very best." Webb gestured expansively at the pub. "Since you brought your own Nikke, I can offer you our complete hospitality free of charge, provided everything remains consensual, of course. We're a respectable establishment."
The hypocrisy of that statement, delivered while surrounded by trafficked Nikkes, nearly broke Arthur's composure. But he nodded and smiled.
"Perfect. What do you recommend?"
"Let me show you to one of our private rooms," Webb said. "Complete privacy, full amenities, and if you need anything—anything at all—just use the call button."
He led them through the main area to a corridor lined with numbered doors. Room Seven opened to reveal a surprisingly spacious chamber furnished with a large couch, low table, and various amenities that suggested extended stays.
"Enjoy yourselves," Webb said, his smile widening. "I'll have refreshments sent up shortly."
The door closed behind him with a soft click. Arthur immediately swept the room for surveillance devices, finding two cameras and what appeared to be an audio pickup. He couldn't disable them without raising suspicion, so he and Viper would need to maintain their cover even in private.
Viper moved to the table, where a tablet sat displaying the venue's menu and services. She picked it up, her fingers sliding across the interface with practiced ease. After a moment, she leaned close to Arthur, her lips near his ear.
"Building's highly secure," she whispered, barely audible. "Multiple checkpoints, probably reinforced doors in key areas. Getting evidence out of here won't be easy."
Arthur nodded slightly, pulling her closer in a gesture that would look intimate to anyone monitoring. "We play it safe," he murmured against her hair. "Gather what we can, identify targets, plan extraction for another time if necessary."
A knock on the door interrupted them. A Nikke server entered, her movements precise and mechanical, carrying a tray laden with bottles and plates of appetizers. She set everything on the table without making eye contact, then departed as silently as she'd arrived.
Arthur watched her go, memorizing her face. Another victim to save.
Viper examined the offerings, selecting a margarita glass and the accompanying ingredients with obvious pleasure. "My favorite," she said aloud, for the benefit of any listeners. "You know me so well."
She settled onto the couch beside Arthur, close enough that their bodies touched. Her fingers worked with practiced precision, applying salt to the rim of her glass before taking a sip. The familiar ritual seemed to center her, and when she looked at Arthur, her red eyes conveyed a complex message: *We're in this together. We'll find a way.*
Arthur poured himself a drink, something amber and expensive, and raised it slightly toward Viper. To anyone watching, it would look like a toast between owner and possession. But between them, it carried different weight.
*To the Nikkes we're going to save,* Arthur thought. *And to burning this whole operation to ash.*