Mind the Thorns

“They say every rose has its thorns. Which is true. It’s also a nice way of saying pretty things can and will fuck your shit up if you’re not careful. They can also carry things that will make your junk itch until you get a special shampoo to take care of it with. I really need to start going to higher-class institutions…. Anyway, we all love beautiful things, and that can get us into trouble from time to time. Shiny diamonds, gold, silver…. Even a fancy gem-encrusted fleshlight with the easy clean-up spray and reservoir…. Don’t judge me!”

• Kantherion Onerious, ‘Chronicle of the Ages’

Chicago, 2085

Upper Level, The Sanguine Rose

The Rose was always busy, day and night, it didn’t matter. But Friday nights were the busiest hours the Burlesque, Brothel, and Bistro would see each week. Tonight was no different as the main floor was packed nearly wall to wall. All the seats at the pair of stages where dancers, both male, and female, performed for onlookers. The twin bars, one on either side of the large main room of the floor, were full as well. Patrons ranging from those dressed in casual street clothing to those dressed in expensive business suits were a mixture of both race and gender. After all, the Sanguine Rose welcomed everyone, so long as they had money to spend.

Flashing lights reflected off the mirrored walls, sending an array of colored beams in all directions and casting shadows in the booths that lined the walls. Booths that hosted as many business meetings as they did shadowy dealings, not that there was much difference between the two in Chicago, or anywhere else these days. In a world dominated by megacorps, profit, and unbridled capitalism, the difference between criminal and corporate operations was often created with the simple stroke of a pen held by the hands of corrupted officials. 

Near the entryway stood a large, powerfully built humanoid dressed in the Rose’s typical three-piece black suit and crimson tie. Towering over eight feet in height with shoulder-length blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and his vibrant blue eyes scanned the crowd. An ever-present smile gave his otherwise fearsome appearance a warm and inviting presence. Known as a jotunn, he was a rare type of troll from the Scandinavian lands in northern Europe. His family had migrated to the old-world nation of America before the Great War. His intimidating look had served him well working as security for the Rose for nearly the last decade. Though he was averse to violence he wasn’t against appearing to play the part. 

“Good night,” came a gruff voice beside him.

Looking to the side and then downward, the jotunn’s gaze fell upon the stocky, well-built form of his fellow security worker. A dwarf with dark brown hair and what had been described as an ‘absolutely magnificent beard’ by nearly everyone, even other dwarves, stood next to him, dressed in the same perfectly fitted black suit and crimson tie. He was stocky as his kind often was, broad at the shoulders with muscled arms crossed over his chest. His head was clean-shaven and he stood a little over four and a half feet tall he didn’t have the jotunn’s view of the entire floor but was able to gauge just how busy the club was nonetheless. 

“Yeah not bad,” the jotunn replied before turning his attention back to scanning the crowd. “Any sign of him yet?”

“You’re asking me?” the dwarf asked, glancing up at his much taller companion.

“Good point,” the troll responded with a good-natured laugh.

“I think I saw Massage Mick earlier though,” the dwarf commented with a shrug of broad shoulders.

“Yep, he’s at the bar with Ariel,” his taller companion reported. The jotunn glanced in the direction he had last seen the human. 

Massage Mick was a tall, middle-aged human man with short-cut light brown hair that had begun to gray at his temples. A successful businessman, he was dressed in a pair of khakis and a green polo shirt. Another human, this one a buxom blonde, sat on his lap at the bar while Mick rubbed her shoulders and upper back, indicating the source of his nickname. There was a moment of silence between the pair as they watched their surroundings, broken when the jotunn spoke up. 

“Hey, Jed. Who are we supposed to send to fetch the Oyabun’s guest?”

“Bosslady said Trinny,” the dwarf answered.

“Did you let her know?” the jotunn replied.

“Yeah, she’s watching for him,” Jed responded with a nod of his head. 

“Ahh, hell….” the troll muttered, causing Jed to look up to see what direction his large companion was looking in. The east bar, which could only mean one thing.

“Nevea?” Jed asked with a smirk.

“Yep,” the jotunn answered with a sigh. “Just a second,” he added before he began to make his way across the crowded floor.

At the bar, the large troll could see the bartender arguing with one of the patrons. The bartender, Nevea, was a petite human barely above five feet in height with long, thick dark locks of hair. She was dressed in a black corset that gave her bust an accentuating lift and a short black mini skirt that showed off supple thighs and shapely hips. The patron arguing with her looked to be a businessman of minor importance, a human dressed in an ill-fitting gray suit and tie with graying hair.

As the jotunn approached the bar, Nevea turned her back on the customer to make a drink for another of the Rose’s patrons. Either the man was drunk or not familiar with Nevea because he proceeded to reach out and grab a handful of the dark-haired woman’s backside. Nevea spun around to face the man and the look on her face was one the jotunn knew well and it caused him to speed up the pace at which he was moving. He also knew, however, that it was too late to stop the inevitable. He watched as Nevea smashed the glass in her right hand over the man’s head, sending glass, ice, and liquor in all directions. She then reached out, grabbed the man’s tie, and yanked downward, viciously bouncing the stunned patron’s cranium off of the bar’s countertop and sending him sprawling backward onto the floor.

“Bruce!” the bartender called out to the jotunn as he approached. “Get this fuck muppet out of here!”

“Come on, fuck muppet. Time to go,” Bruce said as he reached down with a large hand and pulled the man up to his unsteady feet by the back of his suit jacket.

As Bruce turned to escort the drunken and most likely concussed man from the Rose a short, attractive woman dressed in a bright red top that covered her ample chest and matching ‘booty’ shorts that clung to a firm, well-rounded backside and accentuated her athletic thighs slipped past him and approached the bar. The delicate points of elven ears could be seen poking through her shoulder-length blonde hair and a pair of sharp blue eyes settled upon Nevea as she settled onto the now vacant barstool. High cheekbones caused what would normally be a pleasant smile to push well into brilliant territory as the elf regarded the bartender with an amused look upon her features.

“What’s that? Three for the evening?” the elf asked in a smoky voice.

“Five,” Nevea replied as her sour mood seemed to immediately brighten and she flashed a warm smile at the elf. “Are you looking for the detective?”

“Bosslady wants to see him,” the elf said with a nod. “Seen him yet?”

“End of the bar,” Nevea answered, nodding to her left. “Do I wanna know?”

“I don’t even know,” the elf replied with a smirk.

The elfess slid off the barstool and made her way down the bar, deftly moving between patrons as she did. She spotted the detective before he was aware she was moving in his direction. A middle-aged human with short-cut salt and pepper hair with matching stubble and tired-looking eyes. A glass of brown liquid sat, half empty, in front of him on the bar. He was dressed in a dark pair of slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a black tie that had been loosened. A long, all-weather jacket hung open on his shoulders. Those tired-looking brown eyes held a thousand-yard stare in them, making the human appear to be completely unaware of anything going on around him.

“Detective Boone,” the elf cooed in that smoky voice of hers as one delicate hand slid along the human’s side to his lower back beneath the jacket he wore. “You look troubled.”

“Hi Trinny,” Boone replied as he turned his head toward her, his eyes glancing downwards over the elf’s shapely frame. “You look good.”

“You say that like I don’t always look good,” Trinny replied with a playful grin, pressing to the detective’s side as her other arm wrapped around his torso.

“Want a drink?” the human asked as he placed a hand on the elf’s bare side. 

“Always,” Trinny answered, that coy grin remaining.

The detective waited for a moment until Nevea had time to make her way to where they were seated. Ordering Trinny’s regular drink was something Boone was quite used to. He had been coming to the Rose for years now, often during his work hours. The shapely elven dancer had become a favorite of his and he had spent a small fortune on her over that time. Trinny, for her part, had always shown a particular fondness for the detective. Boone appreciated the elf’s bubbly personality as much as he appreciated her incredibly attractive appearance and soft, shapely curves. They knew quite a bit about one another’s lives outside of their encounters at the Rose and Boone considered the short elfess a friend.

“So how was your day?” Trinny asked as she settled on the barstool next to Boone.

“Same as most,” Boone replied, taking a drink from the bottle of beer on the bar in front of him. “I had to go down to Old Towne earlier.”

“Really?” Trinny asked, her delicate nose wrinkling up at the mention of the lower levels of Chicago. “What for?”

While her reaction had been a genuine one, Trinny had been born in Old Towne and had lived most of her life there amid the cramped, crumbling brick-and-mortar buildings that had once made up the majority of Chicago before the megacity project had turned it into the most populace and successful of the remaining population centers around the world. Now affectionately called ‘the megacities’ by most, these urban centers were more than simple cities, housing tens of millions of people in each. Trinny’s parents had been refugees from the Great War of the twentieth century and had immigrated to the old-world nation of America. 

Elves were a long-lived species and her parents had been children when their families had fled the destruction and genocide of the Great War. Trinny appeared to be a young woman in her early twenties, but she was actually over seventy years old, which was still considered quite young for her kind. She was old enough to remember America, being born some thirty years or so before the Infection War and the fall of the old world. She had survived the Infection Wars, though many weren’t so lucky, and she had lived for years in Old Towne as the Spire and Chicago’s famous platform levels had been built.

As Chicago slowly transformed into the world’s first functioning megacity, Old Towne became crowded and overpopulated. Trinny had lost her family’s home to some development project or another and had been unable to find work. She lived among the narrow alleyways and cramped hidden spaces for years, until by chance she happened upon one of the Akuma, the enforcers, and assassins of the Syndicate’s leader, the Oyabun. Instead of taking her life after she had witnessed the reclusive masked assassin enforcing the Oyabun’s will, he brought her back to the Rose and handed her over to the Syndicate.

She had been with them ever since, and eventually, she had recognized her ability to charm others and get people to talk about things they likely shouldn’t be talking about. This information was then turned over to the Syndicate for them to do what they wanted with it. While most weren’t useful, some information could be used to inform law enforcement on rival organizations, some for blackmail or bribery. Some information could be used to avoid clashing with the police or worse yet, getting entangled with the Knights of the Silver Claw. The Order of Knights served the Great Dragon Sazarial himself and were incredibly skilled warriors, investigators, and negotiators.

“Had a few things to check on,” Boone replied to the elf’s question. “Can’t really go into details,” he added with a smile.

“Cop stuff?” Trinny asked playfully.

“Cop stuff,” the detective answered with a soft chuckle.

“Say no more,” the elf said, leaning in closer to the human. “Sounds like you need a bit of TLC.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Boone responded with a smirk.

Trinny slipped off of the barstool she was on and took the detective’s hand in her much smaller one. With a coy smile to the detective, as he stood from his stool, she turned on one high-heeled foot and began to lead him through the crowds of the Rose’s Friday night peak hours. Instead of leading Boone to the dance booths where she would normally perform a personal and intimate dance for the detective behind a closed curtain, Trinny approached the stairs to the second floor.

“Where are we going?” Boone asked, glancing over toward the dance booths.

“It’s a surprise,” Trinny teased, looking over her shoulder with a coy smile on her lips.

The elf led Boone to the base of the stairs, where another of the Rose’s security stood, dressed in that black three-piece suit and crimson tie the others wore. This one was human, though a large, powerfully built one with a clean-shaven head and a short-trimmed goatee. The elf smiled up at the bouncer and, much to Boone’s surprise, the man reached over to open the velvet rope that blocked access to the stairway. The detective looked over at the short elven woman, confusion clear on his face. Trinny smiled warmly up at the man before wrapping her arms around one of his and leading him up the stairs.

“Isn’t this…” Boone questioned, following along where the elf led.

“Private booths?” Trinny answered before he could finish. “I figured it was time we spent some actual quality time together.”

“On a cop’s salary?” the human asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Trinny replied, squeezing the detective’s arm against her ample chest as he smiled warmly up at him once more. As he hesitated, she tilted her head slightly to one side. “We don’t have to if you’re nervous about it.”

“No, no. I’m not nervous…. Well, I am but… just surprised is all,” Boone said with a shake of his head. “Is this allowed?”

“We’re able to take certain… liberties… at times. One of the little perks of working here,” Trinny explained with a playful smile.

“Any other perks?” the detective asked.

“Well an on-staff doctor and the retirement plan are second to none,” the elf answered with a soft laugh. 

Trinny led Boone down a long hallway, each side lined with closed, crimson-colored curtains. Some of the hideaways were obviously occupied as various voices, conversations, and other more intimate sounds could be heard as the pair passed each curtain. Eventually, Trinny led him into one of the private booths with the curtain still open. She released his arm and turned her back to him, pulling the heavy crimson curtain closed. 

Inside the roomy booth was a large, plush-looking lounge, and a circular couch area sunken into the floor. Once the curtain was closed Trinny returned to Boone’s side and took his hand, leading him into the sucking couch area, easily stepping down from the floor onto the seat of the couch and then to the floor. She guided Boone down with her, pressing her free hand to his chest to push him gently into a seated position before stepping back. The human looked up at her, a slow grin spreading across his features as he relaxed on the couch.

Trinny ran her hands down her slender sides to her hips, a seductive smile upon her lips as her bright eyes locked with the detective’s, holding his attention firmly with her gaze. That intense gaze held firm, keeping the detective enraptured with the elf. So much so that he didn’t notice they were no longer alone at first. As Trinny stepped toward him and placed one knee on the couch next to his thigh, Boone realized another feminine figure sat across them on the circular couch. He had been a detective for nearly twenty years and his instincts were highly developed. At the moment those instincts were screaming at him to react. 

“What is this?” Boone asked as he began to sit forward on the couch, one hand reaching inside his jacket for his service weapon.

“Just relax,” Trinny cooed as there was a soft clicking sound of some sort. 

Immediately after the sound, Boone felt small, razor-sharp metallic points digging into his forearm that had reached into his jacket and one against the underside of his chin, causing him to stop reaching for his weapon and tilt his head backward slightly. He looked in surprise at the small elf that was still half kneeling upon the couch over him. Trinny’s sweet, enchanting smile remained upon her lovely features, though it held a coldness to it that he had never seen before.

“Careful, detective, mind the thorns,” came a soft, enchanting feminine voice from across the couch pit.

“What the fuck is this?” Boone growled as he kept his eyes on Trinny.

“Call it an intervention,” the shadowed woman across from him replied. 

“What?” Boone nearly snarled.

“What can you tell me about three nights ago at the south docks in Old Towne?” the woman questioned. “I would advise against lying to me, detective.” 

Boone felt those sharp tips dig into his skin ever so slightly as if to make a point. He winced slightly, still staring intently at Trinny, who simply kept the smile on her face and the cold look in her eyes. The detective let out a long-held sigh as his eyes flicked toward the shadowed figure across from him.

“I didn’t know it was one of yours,” Boone admitted. “We got word of a cargo container full of women and girls. We can’t just ignore that.”

“Mistakes happen, detective, I’m not unreasonable,” the hidden woman replied. “However, my… friend.. in the department can’t seem to locate where they all went. Do you know where they are, detective?”

“I don’t know I’m not in charge of that sort of thing,” Boone answered quickly.

“I think you do know, detective,” the woman said casually, causing Trinny to dig whatever it was she was using against him further into his skin, drawing small rivulets of blood. “Do you know what the Triad will do to them?”

“Same thing you do,” Boone retorted angrily. 

“And what do you think I do to them?” the woman asked curiously. “Do you think I force Trinny here to do anything against her will?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Boone said, his attention returning to the short elf still kneeling over him.

“Trinny is well paid and cared for, just like all those that work for me. If I can’t recover those women… those girls… they’ll be used and brutalized and hooked on glitterdust to keep them docile. If they’re lucky they’ll overdose before they’re murdered for some sick fetish.” the shadowed woman replied sternly. “You’ve condemned them to a life of horror and pain, detective.”

“So what do you want from me?” Boone asked as he glanced between Trinny’s smiling features and the shadow clad figure across from them.

“I need to know which of the Triads you sold them to,” the woman answered. 

“They’ll kill me,” Boone retorted quickly.

“I think you should worry about your immediate situation. Don’t you, detective?” came the slightly amused response.

“The Jade Monkeys,” Boone relented after a brief pause.

“Thank you,” the woman replied.

Boone hadn’t noticed a fourth person entering the booth during the interrogation. Having slipped through the curtain behind the detective, a man dressed in dark, loose clothing with a hooded vest and a Japanese Oni mask covering the lower half of his face. He had crouched behind where the detective was seated, glowing yellow cyber eyes stared across the couch pit to the shadowy woman as one arm lifted and pointed a clenched fist toward the detective’s neck. One of the Syndicate’s Akuma that Trinny knew well. His skills as an assassin had been honed over a decade working for the Oyabun. Detecting the slightest of nods coming from the woman in the shadows, those glowing yellow eyes glanced at Trinny. 

The elf lifted her knee from the couch and stepped back. She saw a glimmer of hope flash in Boone’s tired-looking eyes. That look was quickly replaced by shock and pain as the man crouched behind the detective activated the vibroblade hidden within the cyber arm he had been holding over Boone. The blade extended with a soft ring of metal upon metal as the top of the man’s forearm split open to expose the blade’s housing and allow it to sink into the crook of the detective’s neck and shoulder. The wound was almost instantly fatal as the blade retracted back into the Akuma’s cyber arm.

“Thank you for making it quick, Oyabun,” Trinny said quietly as she turned to face the elven woman sitting across from her. A soft click sounded as the razor-sharp metallic claws on each of her fingers slid back into their housings hidden beneath rather realistic-looking nails.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Trinny.” the other elf replied as she stood and stepped out of the shadows.

The Oyabun had long ago revealed her identity to Trinny and although her looks would change often due to the cybernetic implants that allowed her to change her eye, hair, and even skin color as well as the bone structure of her face. Tonight she appeared with deep purple hair that reached to her mid back, softly tanned skin, and purple-colored cyber eyes. She crossed the couch pit in two steps before placing a gentle hand on Trinny’s shoulder.

“No, he deserved it. Some of them were just kids,” the dancer said with a shake of her head. 

“We’ll find them before any more harm comes to them,” the Oyabun reassured her. They had already received reports from an information broker in Old Towne named Diego Venz that the bodies of two young girls known to be in the shipment had been found. “You did well tonight. You can take the evening off if you like,” the purpled-haired elven woman offered.

“Actually, I think I need a drink,” Trinny replied softly.

“Very well, enjoy your night my little thorn,” the Oyabun said softly before placing a light kiss with plush lips upon Trinny’s forehead.

“I think I’ll go have a seat with Mick.”