XY Revolution

The corridor of the forty-first floor is much the same as the thirty-fifth, except the colour scheme here is navy blue and gold. How refreshing. I grab hold of Xander’s arm and his grips my waist. I can feel the muscle beneath his suit jacket; strong and solid. It reminds me of my dad, funnily enough. That’s where the similarities end though.

There’s a gate in the middle of this corridor though, with a guard seated at a small desk, off to the side. His gun is impossible to miss; it’s as tall as I am. He looks up lazily as we approach.

“Master Michaels,” the guard says.

His voice sounds bored enough to rival that of Dr Walsh’s.

“It’s Mr Michaels now,” Xander corrects with a slow wink.

“Right,” the guard responds with a sneer. “Your father is expecting you. Who is this?”

The guard’s steely gaze turns to me. I shoot him my best smile but he merely raises an eyebrow.

“Your latest whore?” he asks.

The things I would do to this man if I got him alone…and none of them are whorish in the slightest.

“Oh, be nice!” Xander tells him, with a playful clap on the shoulder.

If looks could kill right now, Xander would be dead fifty times over.

“Go ahead, Master Michaels. Your father will not be happy to see that though.”

I’m a ‘that’ now. I suppose that’s what I am to most men though, under the XY. This is normal after all; expected. But the gate opens and we are admitted with individual nods from the guard. It seems the further I get into this place, the bigger creeps I meet.

“Wait outside,” Xander orders Travis and Derek when we reach the end of the hall.

The pair nods for the cameras and take their positions either side of the door facing us. Xander then raises his hand to the wooden masterpiece, which is reminiscent of the front door of the Resistance, and knocks three times. I suppose leading world organisations would have similar taste.

The door swings open and we step inside. My heels clack on the stone floors, and the echoes are nearly unbearable in this cold room. Everything is white, except for what lies outside the floor-to-ceiling windows on nearly every wall. There’s a desk in front of us, and a high-backed chair facing the city.

There are more books than I could ever imagine on the shelves lining the walls facing the corridors; most of them are illegal, depicting revolutions throughout history. I have the sudden urge to reach out and run my fingers over their pristine spines, but I am not a scholar here. I am a plaything; I am an entertainer; I am the mastermind.

“Alexander,” a cool voice states and the door slams behind us.

The chair spins round and we’re greeted with the sight of a man in his fifties. His hair is a distinguished salt-and-pepper grey, and his eyebrows are dark, surly. He has the same overly large nose as his son, but his eyes are not a warm hazel, instead a chilling ice blue.

“Hello Father,” Xander exclaims, as cheerful as ever.

I can see the tense of his shoulders though in that jacket, which would be far too stiff to fight in. His father stands up, almost a full head taller than his son. Apparently I’m supposed to charm this man who not only seems like he could behead someone and then eat a sandwich, but I have to crane my neck to see.

Xander takes his arm off me and walks round the desk. Mr Michaels shakes his son’s hand, and to my surprise, pulls him in for a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you out of bars,” he states.

His voice is cool, but there’s a strange kind of compassion in his movements. Nothing matches. And it feels dangerous.

“I’m just glad I can eat again – and not have eyes on me when I shit. That’s always uncomfortable.”

Mr Michaels actually chuckles.

“Next time, don’t get caught somewhere you’re not supposed to be and you won’t get in that mess.”

And there’s the threat.

Xander waves him off and perches himself on the desk.

“How was I supposed to know who the bird was? All I knew was that she wanted it, and I wanted to give it to her. All. Night. Long,” Xander explains with hip movements I find both comical and frightening.

Mr Michaels rolls his eyes and informs him, “Oh I have no doubt. Women always were your weakness, along with that drink. It’s two o’clock and you already stink of alcohol. Have you not learned anything?”

“No sir,” Xander says with pride and a dopey grin.

“Well, are you going to introduce me to this beautiful young lady or are you going to make her stand there all day?”

Ice blue eyes are on me, sweeping up and down, but unlike the others, I don’t get the feeling that he’s undressing me. I’m being inspected, and he seems to like what he sees because he’s smiling.

“Oh!” Xander races over to me and walks me over to his father. “This is Chastity. It is Chastity right?”

I nod.

“Yeah, Chastity Jones. That’s the one,” Xander confirms.

“You are very welcome here, Miss Jones,” Mr Michaels says and picks up my hand, kissing the top of it.

My eyes nearly pop out of my sockets.

“T-thank you, sir,” I stutter and tuck a strand of stray hair away.

“Call me Daniel, please.”

“Daniel,” I try and he smiles, placing his hand on my face.

My body is at risk of seizing up but he tells me, “You have such stunning eyes. I’ve never seen such a blue.”

“My mother has heterochromia, sir. One of her eyes is the same colour and the other just plain blue. I got the freaky eyes,” I say shyly.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he declares and Xander gives me a quick wink. “Now what on earth possessed you to trail after my idiot son?”

“He is very kind to me, sir.”

Mr Michaels laughs.

“I’ve taught him well. You see, Chastity, I don’t believe wholly in the idea that women are scum. If you don’t treat them well, they won’t do their jobs well. Make them love you, and you have them forever. Make them fear you and they will be miserable, and then you will be miserable. It just makes more sense to co-exist harmoniously, but let the man take over the difficult responsibilities of his household.”

Butter would melt in his mouth, the way he explains this theory. I hate to admit it, but I definitely see the merits of it. But it’ll never happen. We are miserable no matter what. I couldn’t learn to love my chains.

“That’s very clever, sir,” I praise.

“Daniel,” he insists and I smile.

He leads me over to the window, hands gently but surely placed on my shoulders. I can feel him just inches away from my back.

“This is such a wonderful view,” I proclaim. “Los Angeles is everything I thought it’d be. The buildings are so tall!”

And with those few sentences, I could convince anyone that I am completely daft. Los Angeles is a shithole, it’s dangerous and one of the ugliest sights I’ve ever seen.

“I’m glad you think so, my dear.”

I can actually hear the smirk in his voice. He thinks he’s got me.

“Now, what did you want, Alexander?” Mr Michaels suddenly demands, turning to his son.

“Dad,” Xander starts, wandering over to us, head bowed in respect, “I’ve done some stupid things, we all know I have, and I need to accept responsibility for that. I’m so sorry for taking that girl into your office. I was so naïve to think that she just wanted the rush of sex in a place we weren’t supposed to be, you know? I’m sorry for being so careless. I put our whole mission at risk, and I won’t ever forgive myself. I’m just asking for another chance. Since Mum passed, you’re all the family I have, Dad. I can’t lose you over my mistakes.”

“Thank you for your apology, Alexander. Just be sure you don’t need to do so ever again.”

“I won’t let you down, Dad. I promise.”

“Good. Now, both of you, leave me be and meet me for dinner at eight,” he orders.

“Thanks Dad.”

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” I add flirtatiously before leaving behind Xander.



“How did it go?” Travis asks the moment we’re all safely inside the apartment and over the trip-wire.

Derek’s doing another sweep for bugs which aren’t our own.

“She’s a natural, mate,” Xander tells him with a grin, before collapsing into the couch with a groan of satisfaction.

Travis raises his usually scarred eyebrow. I wonder how they managed to get it to look like he has hair there usually, where the skin is so ravaged.

“Michaels liked you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” I retort.

“No,” Travis leans back in his seat, “I’m just impressed.”

“Whoever came up with her backstory is a genius. The heterochromia line was brilliant,” Xander announces.

Travis frowns and says, “That wasn’t in the backstory.”

When he turns to me, I explain, “He started talking about my eyes. I mean this is the head of security. He’s going to know about eye colour. I mean it wouldn’t be too strange for a whore,” the word stings in my mouth, “to wear coloured contacts but I’d hate to think what would happen if he made me take them out or something. My eyes are…distinctive, and would be to the UN head of security of all people. Even if I am a small town girl.”

“Fair enough.”

“He was all over her though, my old man. It was kind of strange actually, but I didn’t think he was suspicious or anything. She’s not the first I’ve brought round.”

“She is probably the youngest,” Derek points out.

We all cringe.

“Regardless, you two did well. Good job,” Travis praises with a minute trace of a smile, “Let’s do it again for the dinner rush.”