Chapter 1: Debriefing in Bonds
The air tasted metallic. That tang always lingered on the back of Drake’s tongue down here, mixed with the heavier scent of old leather, clean lubricant, and something faintly electric. Crimson light bled from recessed fixtures, painting the chrome suspension frame, the padded benches, and the array of neatly hung implements in shades of blood and shadow. Sounds were muffled, absorbed by the thick soundproofing panels, leaving only the low hum of climate control and the soft creak of rope under tension. His rope.
Cleo’s fingers, cool and surprisingly strong, worked with practised efficiency. The rough hemp rasped against the thick muscle of Drake’s forearm as she cinched the final knot just above his wrist, securing it to the heavy D-ring on the steel spreader bar. Her fiery hair brushed his shoulder as she leaned in to check the tension, a cascade of copper curls smelling faintly of ozone and jasmine shampoo. Her freckles stood out like constellations against her pale skin in the dim light.
"Still comfy, sir?" Her voice was a low purr, amusement dancing in her green eyes. She gave the knot a deliberate, testing tug, making the bar shift slightly.
Drake smirked, flexing against the restraint. The familiar bite of the rope grounded him, sharpened his focus. "Define 'comfy', Cleo. This isn't exactly a La-Z-Boy."
"Point taken." She moved to his other wrist, her touch lingering deliberately on his pulse point. "But you do look… focused. Very focused."
He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "That's the idea, isn't it?" He watched her bend to secure his ankle, admiring the lithe line of her back beneath the simple black tank top. Playful, brilliant, and utterly unfazed by the unusual nature of their Friday afternoon briefings. "Remind me again when you decided tying up your superior officer constituted a performance review?"
She secured his left ankle strap with a sharp click after giving the leg one last hard tug and stretch. "Oh, about five minutes after I saw how much faster you cracked encrypted files when Mikasa projected them onto that wall." She nodded towards the expansive, blank section opposite the suspension frame. "While you were… otherwise engaged."
As if summoned, the wall flickered. Cool, blue-white light washed over the sultry red as schematics, satellite images, and dense lines of text materialized. Mikasa stood beside a sleek console, her dark bob sharp against the glow, her expression impassive. She tapped a key, and a grainy surveillance video began to play silently: figures moving furtively near dockside warehouses.
"Right on cue," Cleo murmured, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Drake hung completely naked, suspended a foot off the padded floor, arms pulled wide by the spreader bar, ankles secured to floor rings, muscles taut against the restraints. He felt exposed, controlled, yet paradoxically in command. This strange symbiosis worked.
"Projected and ready, sir," Mikasa stated, her voice calm and precise. Her dark eyes flickered from the screen to Drake, taking in the scene with detached curiosity. There was no judgment, only observation. A silent fascination with the dynamic, the calculated surrender.
Drake shifted his weight, testing. The ropes held firm, the sensation a familiar counterpoint to the cool air on his skin. "Alright, Mikasa. Hit me with the headache. What’s the latest migraine from Langley?"
Mikasa tapped another key. The image shifted to a complex network diagram, lines connecting names, shell companies, and locations across three continents. A red icon pulsed ominously over a cityscape labeled 'Casablanca'. "Operation Silk Road," she began, her gaze fixed on the data. "Human trafficking, high-value targets. Primarily tech sector VIPs with… specific appetites. They’re moving upscale. Private jets, offshore accounts, meticulous digital footprints." She zoomed in on a name circled in red: Viktor Chernov. "Our main facilitator. He operates like a ghost. Payment routes are complex, layered through blockchain and antiquities."
Cleo strolled over to a heavy-duty hydraulic winch bolted to the ceiling track. She grasped the lever, her eyes meeting Drake’s. "Need a little perspective?"
Without waiting for an answer, she smoothly pulled the lever. Gears engaged with a low whine. The pulley system above Drake tightened. He felt the ropes take his weight more completely, lifting him another six inches higher, stretching him further. A sharp hiss escaped his lips as the tension increased along his shoulders and spine. His toes barely brushed the floor now. The world tilted slightly.
"Better?" Cleo asked innocently, stepping back to lean against a padded horse, arms crossed. She watched his reaction with keen interest.
The elevation sharpened the sting of the ropes, sending a jolt of focused awareness through Drake. The schematics on the wall seemed clearer, the details snapping into sharper focus. Vulnerability warred with intense concentration. "Christ, Cleo," he breathed, gritting his teeth against the strain. "Point taken." He forced his focus back to the intel. "Chernov. Weaknesses?"
Drake stared at the image of the opulent venue, his mind racing despite the physical distraction. The pull on his limbs kept the adrenaline humming, silencing the usual background noise. "The gala… perfect cover. A room full of the rich and morally ambiguous." He strained against the ropes, not to escape, but to think, the pressure grounding his thoughts. "We need eyes inside."
"Already working on it," Mikasa said. "Guest list decryption is 70% complete. Targeting high-probability access points." She paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Initial scans detected anomalous encrypted packets routed through the venue's mainframe during setup. Callsign: 'Maelstrom'." Mikasa's fingers danced over the console, pulling up intercepted data files. "Bursts every 30 seconds, originating from a mobile device in the northwest VIP suite."
Drake stared at the digital readout, calculating. "That’s our ticket in. What’s the proximity sensor range?"
Mikasa adjusted her glasses. "Within a 50-foot radius. We'll need to place an asset within the suite."
Cleo smirked, pushing off the padded horse. "Well, that solves one problem.
We have our asset," Cleo murmured, stepping closer to Drake. She bent down, her fingertips brushing against his inner thigh before moving deliberately up to cup his balls, her fingers squeezing gently as she spoke. "You're already on the guest list."
Drake's breath hitched, his hips twitching reflexively against the restraints. The sudden shift in attention was electric, a jolt of sensation that grounded him even as it sparked. His eyes met hers, challenge and amusement warring in their green depths. "Clever," he acknowledged, teeth gritted against the dual sensations of pleasure and tension. "But I think we can do better than just sending me in as a distraction." Drake's eyes narrowed, calculating. He could see the immediate potential, the tangled layers of opportunity that lay within the problem like a maze waiting to be solved. The ropes binding his wrists and ankles seemed to tighten further, the sensations grounding him, sharpening his focus. Mikasa's eyes, however, remained cool and assessing, tracking the shift in his demeanor like a barometer. "The target is Chernov. We need someone to draw him out, make him vulnerable. Who’s our best asset for that?"
Cleo leaned against the winch, her arms crossed over her chest, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You mean other than you, sir?" she teased, but there was no malice behind it. She knew he was right.
Cleo bit back a smile, her fingers stroking gently, teasingly. "Fine. Who's best suited to... draw out Chernov?"
Drake shifted against the ropes, muscles tensing as he tested their hold. The pulleys groaned softly under his strain, the leather creaking against his skin. He couldn't move much, but the act of trying sent a jolt of clarity through him, a rush of endorphins that cut through the haze of sensation. "Mikasa," he said, breath ragged. "You're a tech genius, but you're also... approachable. Non-threatening. The perfect bait."
Mikasa raised an eyebrow, not at the compliment but the sudden shift. "And what role do you see for me?" she asked, her voice level.
Cleo's grin widened.
She leaned in, her fingers tightening around Drake's balls, pinching one between her thumb and forefinger, making him gasp. "If you think I'm being bait, you're not paying attention," she whispered, her voice sultry and laced with amusement. "I want in on this. I want to see Chernov squirm."
Drake's voice cracked like a teenager's, his breath hitching as Cleo's touch sent electric shocks through him. "Cleo, focus," he grunted, trying to maintain control. "Mikasa is our best bet to get close to Chernov. You know he's got a type."
Mikasa watched the exchange, her expression unreadable.
"And what do you suggest I do once I'm in?" she prompted, her voice a calm counterpoint to the charged atmosphere.
Cleo's fingers switched to his other testicle, pinching it lightly as she spoke. "You play the part, Mikasa. The innocent, the curious. You're smart, you'll figure it out. And I'll be there, watching your back."
Drake grunted, his breath hitching again as Cleo's touch sent another jolt through him. "Cleo's right," he managed, despite the distraction. "You get in, you observe, you report. We'll have eyes and ears inside."
Mikasa nodded, her eyes sharp on Drake. "What about you, sir?
How do you plan on contributing, other than being our hostage?" Cleo's fingers tightened around Drake's balls, her thumb circling in a way that sent shivers of pleasure-pain down his spine. He grimaced, his breath coming in short gasps as he struggled to maintain his focus. "I... I can't very well... interrogate Chernov from here, can I?" He ground out between clenched teeth, his voice cracking slightly.
"True," Cleo murmured, her touch lightening but not ceasing. "But you’re a resource, Drake. You're our strategic advantage." She moved closer, her voice dropping lower, more intimate. "You know how to read people, to push the right buttons. You’re the brains of this operation, even if your current position suggests otherwise." Her fingers slipped away, leaving a lingering warmth.
Drake's breath hitched as he forced his voice to steady. "I'll be our eyes and ears in the mainframe. Mikasa will feed me data, and I'll relay it back. Real-time analytics, potential breaches, anything out of the ordinary. Plus, if things go sideways, I can trigger a full system lockdown remotely." He paused, a smirk twisting his lips even as he gasped slightly from the lingering effects of Cleo's touch. "Besides, isn't it more fun this way?"
Cleo's eyes sparkled with mischief as she stepped back, her hands now on her hips. "Well, it's certainly more... interesting. Alright, then. Mikasa, you're our innocent abroad. Cleo, you're my backup and muscle. And Drake... you're our digital guardian.
Mikasa, get the intel, Cleo, make sure our tech genius stays in one piece, and me... well, I guess I'll just have to hang around and take one for the team," Drake finished with a strained laugh, his voice cracking slightly as Cleo's fingers returned, applying a gentle but firm downward pressure on his balls. He gasped, his body tensing against the restraints as a wave of sensation washed over him, a mix of discomfort and pleasure that sent his thoughts scattering. "Christ, Cleo, not helping," he managed to choke out, his breathing now ragged and uneven.
Cleo smirked, her eyes gleaming with amusement and a touch of cruelty. "Oh, I thought we were all about maximizing our assets, sir?" she countered, her fingers tightening slightly, causing Drake to gasp again.
"Besides, someone has to keep you focused on the mission."
Mikasa, meanwhile, had begun to prepare her tech gear, coolly efficient despite the charged atmosphere. She opened a sleek black case on a nearby table, revealing an array of sophisticated gadgets—encrypted comms devices, miniature cameras, discreet bugs, and a slim, advanced tablet. She selected a small, unassuming device, attaching it to her wrist with a subtle, custom-made band. "We'll need to adapt our encryption protocols," she stated, her voice measured and focused. "Chernov's people are well-versed in digital security. We can't afford any leaks."
Cleo nodded, her eyes flicking from Mikasa to Drake, a wicked grin still playing on her lips.
"Don't worry about him," she said, giving Drake's balls another firm squeeze, eliciting a low, pained moan from him. "I'll keep him... motivated."
Mikasa glanced at Drake momentarily, her expression impassive as she continued to set up her equipment. "Understood. Encryption protocols adapted. We'll need to sync up before the event. I'll send you a secure link later today." She opened a sleek, encrypted laptop and began typing, the screen casting an eerie blue glow over her face. "In the meantime, I suggest we acquaint ourselves with the venue. Floor plans, security measures, staff rotations... every detail will matter."
Drake groaned again, his body tensing against the ropes as Cleo's fingers explored his most sensitive spots. "Yesss... details...
yes, details," Drake ground out, his voice ragged as he struggled to maintain focus under Cleo's expert touch. "Mikasa, send the secure link. We need to start reviewing the floor plans and security schematics. Time is our enemy here."
Mikasa nodded, her fingers dancing over the keyboard. "Already on it, sir. Secure link incoming." She tapped a few commands, and a holographic interface materialized above the table, projecting an encrypted channel directly into Drake's line of sight.
A soft chime echoed through the dungeon as the secure message arrived. Drake's eyes flickered to the floating text, his breath hitching as he absorbed the flood of data. "Got it," he confirmed, his voice steady despite the distraction. "Initiating data review. Cleo, you're on standby.
Keep him... comfortable," Drake managed to rasp, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as Cleo’s touch intensified. Her fingers, now slick with lubricant, moved with deliberate, measured pressure, each stroke sending a shockwave of sensation through Drake's body. His muscles tensed, his abs clenching as he tried to absorb the mounting pleasure. The ropes holding him bit into his wrists and ankles, grounding him, a stark contrast to the heat building in his core. "Cleo," he gasped, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. "Focus. We need to stay on mission."
Cleo laughed, low and throaty, her breath warm against his ear as she leaned in. "Relax, boss," she whispered, her fingers never ceasing their rhythmic dance. "You're the one who wanted to mix business with...
Cleo’s touch intensified, Drake struggled to focus. His mind flickered between the encrypted data dancing in the air before him and the heat building in his core. Each stroke of her fingers sent shivers of pleasure-pain through him, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The holographic schematics blurred, wavering in and out of focus as he fought to maintain his concentration.
"Cleo..." he panted, his voice hoarse. "Can't... can't think straight like this." His body tensed against the ropes, every muscle clenching as he wrestled with the sensory overload.
Cleo chuckled, her breath hot on his neck. "Good," she murmured. "I want you to feel it.
Feel it like you feel the data, like you feel the ropes," Cleo whispered, her voice a low purr against Drake's ear as she squeezed harder, her fingers digging into his flesh. Drake's breath hitched, his back arching as a sharp jolt of pain mixed with pleasure shot through him. The holographic schematics before him blurred further, the encrypted data swimming in his vision as he struggled to process the onslaught of sensation. "Feel it, Drake. Let it sharpen you."
Drake grunted, a harsh, primal sound ripped from deep within him. His muscles tensed, his body straining against the ropes as if trying to escape the dual assault of pain and pleasure. The winch creaked ominously under the sudden force, the pulleys groaning softly as the tension increased. "Cleo... Christ... you're...
you're driving me insane, Cleo," Drake snarled, his voice a low, raw growl as he strained against the ropes, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the scent of lubricant and the faint sound of the winch creaking under the strain.
Cleo's fingers tightened around Drake's balls, her grip firm and unyielding as she tugged sharply, pulling his entire body forward with a sudden, brutal motion. Drake's eyes flew open, his body jerking in surprise and pain as he was dragged roughly towards her, the ropes digging into his flesh as he was forced to move against his will.
"Cleo, what the fuck?" he gasped, his breath ragged and his muscles tensing as he fought against the sudden, brutal motion.
Mikasa, undeterred by the sudden commotion, continued to work methodically at her console, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she fine-tuned their communication protocols.
"I'm uploading the initial security schematics to your interface, sir," she said calmly, her voice steady and businesslike despite the heated exchange unfolding before her.
Drake moaned in pain, his body jerking as Cleo's sudden, brutal tug forced him forward, the ropes biting into his flesh. he gasped, his breath ragged and his muscles tensing as he struggled to process the abrupt change in their dynamic. The winch groaned under the new strain, the pulleys creaking ominously as Drake was pulled roughly towards Cleo. "This isn't... this isn't how we do this, Cleo," he panted, his voice raw with a mix of pain, surprise, and a lingering spark of arousal.
The sudden, brutal tug had caught him off guard, sending a shockwave of sensation through his body that jolted his focus. He struggled against the restraints, his muscles tensing as he fought to regain control. Mikasa, undeterred by the commotion, continued typing at her console, her fingers dancing over the keys with practiced efficiency. "Initial security schematics uploaded, sir," she reported calmly, her eyes scanning the stream of data scrolling across her tablet. "You should have access to the floor plans and key security zones. I'm also cross-referencing the encrypted packets with known Chernov associates."
Cleo's grip loosened slightly, her fingers flexing against Drake's skin as she watched him struggle. A cruel smile played at the corners of her mouth, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker.
Then, suddenly, her fingers released their punishing grip on Drake's balls. The unexpected relief sent a shockwave of sensation through him, his body jerking as he was freed from the intense, conflicting pain and pleasure. He gasped, his breath ragged and his muscles tensing, his entire body straining against the ropes as he tried to process the sudden change. Cleo asked, her voice a low purr as she stepped back, her hands now on her hips. Her gaze was unnervingly calm and dispassionate, as if she hadn't just subjected him to a brutal, unexpected shift in dynamics. She watched him with a mixture of curiosity and detached observation, waiting for his response.
Drake's body trembled, his muscles aching from the sudden release of tension.
He was just beginning to regain his breath when Cleo's hands shot out, grasping his shoulders with surprising strength. His heart leapt into his throat as he realized her intent. Before he could react, she drove her knee into his crotch with a brutal, unyielding force.
A white-hot bolt of pain seared through Drake, his vision exploding into a kaleidoscope of agony. A guttural scream tore from his throat, his body convulsing as every muscle tensed, fighting against the sudden, relentless onslaught. The winch groaned, the pulleys shrieking in protest as the ropes bit into his flesh with renewed ferocity.
Cleo stepped back, her eyes wide and her breath coming in sharp gasps. She stared at Drake, her expression a mix of shock and animalistic satisfaction.
Mikasa, however, remained entirely focused, her fingers a blur on the console as she continued to fine-tune their encryption protocols. The keystrokes echoed in the chamber, a steady rhythm contrasting Drake’s agonized scream. She glanced up only briefly, her eyes flicking between the writhing Drake and Cleo’s frozen stance, before returning to her work. “Encryption complete,” she announced calmly, her voice cutting through the air as if nothing had happened. “All systems operational.”
Drake panted, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to regain control. The room spun around him, the holographic schematics a blur of lines and colors. Every muscle in his body tensed, fighting against the searing pain that shot through him. “Christ, Cleo,” he managed to gasp, his voice raw and hoarse.
“What the actual fuck?” His body trembled, every muscle tense and wracked with pain. He couldn’t fully process what had just happened.
Mikasa looked up from her console, her dark eyes taking in the scene with cool detachment. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked, her tone measured and professional despite the chaotic scene unfolding before her.
Cleo, however, was not so composed. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and something primal. Then, as if suddenly remembering herself, she turned to Mikasa. “I need something,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Something to... ground him,” she added, a hint of guilt creeping into her tone. She reached into a nearby toolbox, pulling out two jumper cables. Mikasa raised an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the cables and Cleo’s unreadable expression.
"What do you plan to do with those?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
Cleo handed the cables to Mikasa, her fingers brushing against hers briefly. "A little shock therapy," she explained, her voice low and intense. "To focus his attention."
Mikasa took the cables, her dark eyes narrowing as she scrutinized them. "You're serious?" she questioned, her voice flat and measured, but with an underlying note of disbelief. She looked at Drake, still writhing in pain from the sudden, brutal attack, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "He's already... significantly distracted."
Cleo’s eyes met Mikasa’s, her expression unapologetic. "He needs to be grounded.
Literally," Cleo declared, her voice tight with determination. She moved towards Drake, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh before she swiftly and expertly connected one of the jumper cables to his balls. The sudden, intimate touch sent another jolt of sensation through Drake, this one dulled by the persistent ache from Cleo's previous assault. He tensed, his breath hitching as the cold metal touched his most sensitive flesh.
Mikasa watched, her expression impassive, as Cleo connected the other cable. She quickly checked the settings on the makeshift shock device, her fingers moving deftly over the controls. "I assume you're aware this could cause serious injury," she stated, her voice calm but tinged with a warning. Cleo nodded, her eyes focused on Drake as she gripped the handles of the device.
"I know the risks, Mikasa," she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. "But we need him focused."
Drake's body tensed as he felt the cold metal clamps on his balls, his breath hitching with a mix of shock and pain. His eyes locked onto Cleo, his gaze filled with a potent mix of anger, betrayal, and something more primal—a deep, almost feral need for dominance. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back a scream as the jumper cables bit into his flesh. "Cleo, you fucking..." he started, his voice a low, ragged growl, before a sudden burst of static silenced him. A jolt of electric current coursed through his body, making every muscle clench and spasm.
Mikasa watched the sudden convulsion, her expression unreadable.
"Steady focus, sir," she said, her voice a reprimand, yet devoid of any personal emotion. "We need you sharp." Cleo stepped back, watching Drake's reaction with a mix of fascination and concern. Her eyes flicked to Mikasa, her voice tinged with a hint of apology. "Just trying to keep him on task, Mikasa. You know how he gets."
Mikasa nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Drake's contorted expression. She turned back to her console, her fingers dancing over the keyboard as she continued to outline the case details. "We have the venue layout and initial security protocols. I've also managed to infiltrate the guest list. Chernov will be seated in the west wing, where he'll have a clear view of the entire ballroom.
We need someone inside, someone who can get close enough to plant a bug," Mikasa continued, her voice steady and focused despite the tense undercurrents in the room. Drake, however, could barely process her words over the lingering shock and pain that gripped him. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles still twitching from the sudden, brutal jolt of electricity. His eyes flicked between Cleo and Mikasa, a mix of anger and disbelief warring in their green depths. "What... the fuck... was that, Cleo?" he managed to grit out, his voice raw and hoarse with pain. Cleo met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and determination. "I needed to focus you, Drake. You were... distant." Drake snorted, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed through the dungeon.
"You call that focusing? You fucking electrocuted me, Cleo!" he growled, his voice a raw, pained rumble as he strained against the restraints, every muscle tensing with the effort. The ropes dug into his flesh, grounding him as he fought to process the sudden surge of pain and the lingering tingle of electricity. "How can I think straight with my balls on fire?" he hissed, his eyes locked onto Cleo, a mix of anger and betrayal swirling in their green depths.
Cleo took a step back, her expression softening as she saw the intensity of Drake's reaction. "I'm sorry, Drake," she said, her voice filled with a genuine remorse she rarely showed. "I just... I wanted to snap you out of it. You were so distracted, and this mission—it's not just any job.
We need you at your best, Drake," Cleo explained, her voice a mix of urgency and regret. "Why do you keep these things around if not for... other purposes?" She gestured to the jumper cables still clamped to Drake's intimate areas.
Drake grimaced, his body still twitching from the shock, his breath coming in labored gasps. "I use them for... special occasions," he ground out, his voice laced with a mix of pain and humiliation. "Not to be tortured by my interns." His eyes flicked to Mikasa, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of fascination and professional detachment. "You're enjoying this a bit too much, aren't you, Mikasa?" he said, his voice tight with a mix of pain and sarcasm. Mikasa raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and aloof.
"So this isn't a special occasion?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of challenge as she looked at the two of them, her eyes flicking between Drake's twisted expression of pain and Cleo's contrite one.
"Not quite," Cleo replied, her voice soft and apologetic as she looked at Drake. "I was just... trying to keep him sharp. You know how distracted he can get sometimes."
Drake's breath hitched, his body still convulsing slightly from the lingering effects of the electric shock. "Distracted? Yes, Cleo, I was distracted—by the fact that you just fucking electrocuted my balls," he growled, his voice thick with pain and anger. His eyes narrowed, pinning Cleo in place with a fierce, almost feral intensity.
“You’re enjoying this too much, aren’t you?” he growled, his voice thick with pain and anger. Mikasa watched the exchange, her expression impassive, but her eyes held a glint of something akin to fascination.
Without a word of warning, Cleo waved the remote in front of Drake, the jumper cables still clamped to his most sensitive areas. The sudden movement caught Drake off guard, his body tensing instinctively, his breath catching in his throat. A low, dangerous rumble escaped him, his eyes locked onto the remote as if it were a physical threat. “Cleo, don’t,” he warned, his voice a low, guttural growl. The air in the dungeon shifted, the tension palpable as Drake braced himself for whatever was to come.
Cleo, her expression serious, agreed, "Alright, Drake. You're right, that was extreme. But the clamps stay on, just in case you need correcting." She gestured to the jumper cables still attached to his balls, her words laced with a mix of regret and determination.
Drake's eyes widened in disbelief, his body tensing again at the thought of more pain. "Cleo, you can't be serious. I'm already—“ He gasped as another jolt of pain shot through him, this time from the sensation of the clamps digging into his skin. Mikasa, still working at the console, glanced up at the exchange, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"I understand the need for focus, sir," she said, her voice calm and professional. "But extreme measures have their consequences.
Look at the data," Mikasa added, her voice stark and clear. Drake gritted his teeth, enduring the pain as he attempted to focus on the holographic schematics floating before him. He watched as Mikasa highlighted key points, her fingers dancing over the console with practiced precision.
Cleo stepped closer, her voice softening. "I'll admit, it was a mistake, Drake. I was trying to... motivate you, but I pushed too far." She reached out, tentatively touching his shoulder. Drake flinched at the contact, his breath catching in his throat. The ropes bit into his wrists and ankles, grounding him as he fought to process the lingering pain and the sudden wave of vulnerability that washed over him.
"You're right, Cleo," he finally ground out, his voice thick with both pain and humiliation.
"But right now, I need to focus on the data." Mikasa continued to analyze the holographic schematics, her fingers dancing over the console with practiced ease. "We've decrypted the guest list. Chernov's entourage will be extensive—bodyguards, personal staff, and at least two known cyber-mercenaries," she reported, her voice calm and focused. "They're all in the west wing, as expected. We need to get someone close—someone who can plant a bug without raising suspicion."
Drake took a deep, shuddering breath, his body still throbbing from the lingering effects of Cleo's methods. He forced his gaze to the holographic data before him, his eyes scanning the layout of the ballroom. "We need someone who can blend in, someone who won't draw attention.
Cleo, I want you on this, but first, I need you to leave," Drake ordered, his voice firm despite the lingering pain. His eyes met hers, a mix of anger and resignation in their green depths. "I need to focus, and having you this close... it's not helping." Cleo's expression flickered with a mix of hurt and understanding. She knew Drake too well to argue. She nodded, stepping back and releasing her grip on his shoulder. "Alright, Drake. I'll leave. But you know where to find me if you need me." She shot Mikasa a quick glance, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Keep an eye on him, Mikasa. He's not as indestructible as he likes to think." Mikasa raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "I always do, Cleo," she replied, her voice steady and professional.
Cleo nodded, her expression softening as she took a step back, then turned and walked away from the suspended Drake. The room seemed to grow colder as she left, the dim red light casting long, dancing shadows across the leather-clad walls.
As the door closed behind her, Drake let out a shuddering breath, his body still tensing against the lingering pain. He turned his attention back to the holographic schematics, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand. "Status update, Mikasa," he said, his voice gruff but determined.
Mikasa looked up from her console, her dark eyes meeting Drake's gaze. "We've identified three potential candidates for infiltration," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Two are known associates of Chernov, but neither has the level of access we need.
The third is a wildcard—no clear affiliation, but she's been seen in the same social circles," Mikasa reported, her voice steady and professional despite the tense undercurrents in the room. Drake gritted his teeth, focusing on the data, his body still aching from Cleo's intense methods. He forced his eyes to scan the holographic schematics, attempting to block out the lingering pain and the humiliation of his current predicament.
"Who's the wildcard?" Drake growled, his voice tight with pain and determination. He needed to focus on the mission— Clemmons needed to be neutralized, and the data in front of him was the key to that. Mikasa turned to look at him, her dark eyes assessing. "Her name is Ava Sterling," she said, her voice calm as she scrolled through the encrypted files.
"She's a former intelligence agent, highly skilled in social engineering and infiltration. She's been seen at several high-profile events this year, but her background is murky.
We think she might be freelancing for the highest bidder." Mikasa's fingers danced over the keyboard, pulling up Ava's file on the holographic interface. A photo of a woman with dark hair, sharp features, and piercing eyes materialized above the console. "She's got the right connections, the right skills, and the right looks to blend in at Chernov's gala. But we need to tread carefully—she's unpredictable."
Drake gritted his teeth, focusing on the image of Ava Sterling as it floated above Mikasa's console.
Despite his resolve, his body still throbbed with lingering pain and humiliation. The sight of her stark, intense eyes only served to amplify the raw, unresolved emotions churning within him. His mind raced, trying to maintain composure, but his body betrayed him—his breath hitched, and his muscles tensed as he fought to suppress the waves of uncomfortable sensation that washed over him.
"You okay, Drake?" Mikasa's dark eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking between the data and Drake's contorted expression. The subtle shift in her voice betrayed a hint of concern, a rare chink in her professional armor.
"Yes, I'm fine," Drake snapped, his voice sharper than intended. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain control. "Just...
give me a moment," Drake ground out, his voice tight with pain and humiliation. "I need... a bit of help here," he admitted, his eyes locked onto Ava Sterling's piercing gaze in the holographic image. Mikasa nodded, her expression softening slightly as she saw the raw, unresolved emotions playing across Drake's face. She stepped closer to the winch, her fingers deftly adjusting the pulleys that held Drake suspended midair. "What do you need?" she asked, her voice gentle yet professional. Drake took a deep, shuddering breath, his body still aching from the lingering effects of Cleo's intense methods. He forced himself to relax, letting the ropes take some of his weight as he tried to ease the tension in his muscles. "Can you... can you just loosen these a bit?" he asked, his voice humbler than usual.
"No, Drake," Mikasa responded, her tone firm yet measured. "I can't.
Drake's body stiffened, his eyes widening in surprise and disbelief. "What do you mean, you can't?" he demanded, his voice a low growl as he strained against the restraints. Mikasa turned to face him, her expression serious.