Authors: Kurt Bartling
“For what reason
s
?” Rena asks.
“
I’m not sure.
Takada might be looking to increase the functionality of
your
team
.
”
Rena considers
Ms. Smith
’s theory,
the continuation of
an idea forming quickly,
“Have you done Meg’s portfolio shots yet?”
She
asks knowing
they had,
understanding
it’s standard protocol
during the evaluation period
.
Ms. Smith
tap
s the corner of a large monitor.
E
ntering an identification number, a series of image
s
appear on the display
.
“These are pretty good, looks like she has some real potential. Could we get some more?”
Ms. Smith studies her protégé,
“
I think that would be a great idea. Have you any preferences?”
Agreeing
, glad to have Rena back and engaged.
“I noticed a very provoca
tive evening gown on the rack, d
eep c
rimson
, not a lot of substance,
Egyptian styling.
D
o you know of which I am describing?”
“What are you playing at my dear?”
Ms. Smith
smiles, knowing
her favorite pupil is a master gamesman and such a direct request is not without provocation. “Yes
,
I know which dress you speak. I was hoping to save that one for you.”
“Red
’
s
really not my
color;
although
I love the style, as I would expect Michael.
” Rena smirks,
“
Can you entertain my imagination for a bit?
”
“Rena, for you, absolutely. Watching you work is enough reason to
amuse
your wishes. I’m interested in seeing where you’re going with this.
M
i casa es su casa
.”
Ms. Smith
agrees.
Rena explains to Meg that
Immersion needs to get
a couple more images of her.
Agreeing,
Meg goes under the art
istic hands of Abigail and Fior as
Rena and
Ms. Smith
retire to a
Ready Room
to discuss Whitemire and other pending operations
.
“
Whitemire is a long haul
op
.”
Ms. Smith
explains,
“M
eaning that he’
s on
our
radar, high on
our
list of concerns
, but I expect t
ha
t situa
tion will take some time to vet
out
.
”
Showing
Rena a few others under observation, an executive professor from MIT, a terrorist group from the Ukraine, an arms financier out of South America, a businessman from France
and software mogul from
J
apan.
Calling
Waters
on the internal comm-system
,
Rena
request
s
a
n
escort
back to her quarters
.
The two women
return to the makeup studio
,
just as Fior and Abigail are putting their final touches on
Meg’s
gown
.
S
tanding in front of a large mirror,
Meg
turns so Rena and
Ms. Smith
can examine
the
inspiring
ensemble.
The
provocative
deep
crimson silk evening gown
originat
es
from
a narrow
st
rip of material
behind
her neck
that
meets
in front
through a broach.
The
dark red
ribbons
diverge
from
the
adornment
,
widen
in overlapping piles
over
her breasts
, continuing
around
her sides
.
C
ross
ing behind her back
and then
forward around her
narrow
waist
, t
he ribbons
meet
behind
a second larger
jeweled adornment
below her exposed navel.
From
below the
bauble
, t
he material
gathers
in overlapping layers, creat
ing
a loincloth-style accent.
A
loose
flowing
ski
rt
, originating from behind the folds,
wrap
s
low
around her waist falling to the back of the knees
.
B
elow the small of her back
,
the material collects in
a
similar loincloth effect
accentuating
the
lithe
young woman’s
backside.
Her
black hair
,
straightened and
pulled back
over the top,
secured
with
a
catch
similar
to the
adornments
, t
he effect exposing more of
her
face and
neck.
The
l
ong
raven
locks
fall
behind
Meg’s
shoulders,
down
her
back.
With t
he
styling
of the dress
and makeup,
the young woman
appear
s
older,
sophisticated,
and
elegant.
P
leased with the ensemble,
Rena and
Ms. Smith
work wi
th her to adjust her
walking
gate
and
carriage
in the
calf-
wrapped
sandal-style
heels, the goal to
present an air
of grace
and confidence
.
Waters arrives
at the
Immersion Offices
to
escort
Rena to her next d
estination.
E
ntering,
he
paus
es
to study the beautiful
model
in the
captivating crimson
dress.
“S
o
,
what do you think?” Rena
inquires
,
putting no effort to mask her
innuendo
.
“Well … I …
I
s that
Meg
?” He asks,
surprised by his
discovery
.
“
Uh huh.
Y
ou didn’t answer the question.” Ren
a
grins
like a Cheshire cat
.
“She looks
…
amazing
.
Wow!
”
Waters
gazes
intently, captivated by
the
blushing
young
woman
,
her cheeks matching the dress
,
embarrassed by the attention
.
“When you’re ready, I’d like to go back to my quarters. No rush
of course. Please …
take your time.”
“
Sargent
Waters
. If you’ll give us a moment,
you can pick
your charge
up in the hall.
I’d like to have a word with her first.”
Ms. Smith
instructs
,
pushing Rena’s wheelchair out the entrance into the hall.
Outside,
“
Very sn
eaky
, young lady … A
lways manipulating
the
world
around you
. So
,
when did you know?”
“Today
,
at the Monolith
.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,
I’ve been
so
worried. What wer
e you thinking
,
confronting
those soldiers
without Michael?”
“She reminded me of myself, scared and
alone
. I thought she was worth it.” Rena
states
, her mind recalling the night of her
own
tryout
.
Ms. Smith smiles, knowing Rena better than anyone else in the Bunker, except Michael,
“You made a good call. S
tupid
-dangerous
, but a good call. So
,
h
ow
ar
e
you and Michael?”
“We’re good.
” She hesitates, “
H
e’s been a little distant, blames himself
for not being there when it happened. He doesn’
t realize, if he hadn’t trained me like he did … well let’s just say … because of him, I’m a stronger person.”
Waters steps out of the
Immersion Offices
, taking one last glance back at Me
g
.
Ms. Smith
leans over and kisses Rena on the cheek,
and
whisper
s
,
“You are the strongest person I’ve ever met,
my
dear.”
“
Thank you.”
She responds
softly
. Turning to her distracted escort,
“So are you done ogling? If you
’re
nice
,
Ms. Smith
might get you a picture.”
Rena laughs,
waiting for
Waters
to
disengage his interest and take
her back to her quarters
.
That evening, after dinner
,
Michael
and
Rena
sit
together
on the couch.
Rena
,
still not cleared to read, watch
es
Michael quietly
scan
over a file
.
“God dammit, would you get over yourself.” She
snaps
at him
without
provocation
.
“Wha
t?
…
What
are you talking about?” confused and surprised, Michael
backpedals
.
“Ever since the fight, you’ve been blaming yourself for me getting a concussion.”
“I
t
was my fault. If I hadn’t been pissed off about the Harbinger of Death
shit
,
I
would’ve
been with you. I shouldn’
t have left you alone.”
“You shouldn’t have left me alone? Seriously, you’re going to play the fragile
little
gi
rl card on me. Are you serious …
on me
, of all people
! Maybe I’ve been giving you too much damn credit for brains, because that could be the most asinine
,
stupid thing
,
I’ve ever heard you say.”