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It’s been thirty-three days since the stay at home order, and Ava Sharpe is nothing if not a rule follower. Her version of going out is morning tea and an evening glass of wine on her balcony. She has groceries delivered weekly, pays for them by credit card, has them dropped off by her door, and disinfects them thoroughly before putting them away. Yes, actual human contact is turning into a memory, but we all must do our part.
In truth, Ava’s actually more social now than when she was going into the office every day. Obsidian Tech is to thank for that. Their new product had a fall launch date in North American, but viruses respect neither borders nor calendars. Rushing to launch early, Obsidian starts with software in Asia even as they push out more lenses in North American and Europe. The reason becomes clear when they announce their new, interactive, at home platform: Portal.
Portal is a major upgrade from their prior tech platform. Though it has a limited selection of game options, it allows for group play. Up to four people can join in one shared experience. It’s a way for people to interact while separated. Obsidian calls it the future of connectivity, today. Whatever else it is, it’s timely as over a hundred million quarantined people signed up, logged in, and got out without ever leaving the safety of their homes.
Tonight, Ava finds herself anxiously pacing in her apartment. For several weeks in a row, she and a group of three coworkers (Nate, Gary, and Mona) have met in Portal. Their game is called TimeSlip, and it allows them to travel through time as they correct anomalies in the timestream.
Their team, The Bureau, has risen quickly in the North American ranks and jockeys back and forth with another group for the top spot. It's a combination of pride and competition that keeps Ava going back to take on harder challenges, earn more points, and push their way to the top spot. It makes tonight all the more maddening as Nate and Gary are both working late on a project, and Mona has chosen to take this opportunity to do a one-on-one encounter with another Kaupe she’s met online. That leaves Ava staring at a bottle of wine. She plans to spend the evening with a few glasses of chardonnay and a Rebecca Silver novel, but she pushes the bottle away and grabs her lenses from their case.
Ava’s eyes turn an eerie silver blue as she engages the lenses and steps into the virtual world. The waiting room is a world of faceless avatars representing everyone else joining the server and where she would normally enter her team code to join her squad. However, she’s alone tonight, so instead, she goes to the list of three-person teams waiting for a fourth to join. There are many lower-level modules where people quickly jump into groups and disappear into their adventure. There, at the far end of the list, like a first-class only bar at an airport, is a reserved section for those twenty-fifth level and above.
Ava steps through and shifts into her avatar, The Director, a Clone class player. Though the clone has no special powers, it has high strength, dexterity, and weapon skills. It also comes with access to items inaccessible to other player classes. It’s proven to be an amazing starting class that has saved her team on more than one occasion. Ava does a quick check of her ready items to make sure her preferred items are set as active when she feels the pull that signifies she’s been invited to join a group. The name flashing on her readout gives her pause, but curiosity proves a great motivator, and she accepts. There’s a five-second countdown, and then she finds herself standing on the deck of the Waverider, facing three members of the team with whom she’s been competing for weeks: The Legends.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” says a short blonde dressed all in white.
“She’s a Clone,” says a gruff man with a face that looks like he does push-ups without hands. “Clones are useless.”
Rising from their perch on the ship’s console, a person in a black leather jacket with a British accent says, “Hold on. She’s one of ‘em Bureau folks. They got good stats.”
“You’re British, but this is a North American server,” Ava says.
“Yeah, sharp as a tack this one.” The Brit gestures toward Ava and grins before their features morph into Ava’s. “Watch she doesn’t cut herself.”
“You're a shape changer.”
They shift back to themself and reach out, running their thumb along Ava’s jaw before pulling their hand back with a faux wince of pain and a smile. “Like I said, sharp. I’m Charlie. My band was on tour in the states when travel got dicey. That’s Sara, and my charming mate there is Mick.”
Mick sneers in response. It does nothing for his looks. Maybe a smile would help.
Ava glances at the pistol in Mick’s hands. “Your character class is Pyromaniac.”
“I like to burn things.” Mick smiles, and if possible, that’s even worse. Apparently, fugly is just fugly.
“And you?” Ava asks Sara.
“I’m a Revenant. Username White Canary.”
“That’s not possible. Revenants look, well, dead.”
“Your right, she is quick,” Mick whispers none too quietly to Charlie.
“You’ve just never seen a Revenant who’s properly completed the Lazarus Pit mission.”
“Yeah, that was a right romp, Cap’n,” Charlie says as they do a quick shadow box. “Now, can we get this little soiree going? I got a date with a bottle of Jack Daniels this evening, and I don’t like to keep a gentleman waiting.”
“Fine.” Sara taps on some keys on the center console of the Waverider, and a display pulls up. “Do you prefer Director or—”
“Director is fine,” Ava says.
“Suit yourself. Gideon, what’s the mission?”
A voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. Gideon, the part of the game that represents the ship’s AI, speaks. “On August 21, 1911, the Mona Lisa was stolen from the Louvre in Paris, France. It was recovered twenty-eight months later from Vincenzo Perugia, who pleaded guilty to the theft.”
“And you want us to recover the painting,” Sara says.
“No, Captain. You need to steal it.”
“Come again?” Ava says. “It sounded like you said you wanted us to steal the painting.”
“That is correct, Director.”
“Finally!” Mick’s grin is ear to ear. “Gideon, if you had a face, I’d kiss it.”
“And I would decline, Heatwave.”
“Gideon, before Ava here has a stroke,” she just might, “can you tell us why we’re committing a crime? I hate to rain on Mick’s parade, but that’s not our usual MO.”
“Sounds like a bit of fun to me.” Charlie wilts under Sara’s glare.
“Of course, Captain. Vincenzo Perugia did not steal the Mona Lisa. The real thieves were never caught. The painting was never recovered. In 1911, the Mona Lisa was returned to Italy, and the painting that hangs in the Louvre to this day is a forgery.”
“You are fucking with me,” Sara says.
“I do not believe I am capable of that, Captain. To set time right, you must steal the painting and bring it to the ship so it can be returned to Italy. Do you have any further questions?”
Sara glances around the crew whose expressions vary between excited and nauseous. “I think we’re good, Gideon. It’s time to plan ourselves a museum heist.”
The caper itself is simple enough. Mick will dress as a security guard to scope out the perimeter. The museum is currently photographing its many works of art, and since cameras at that time are lacking when it comes to light generation, paintings are being taken to the roof for this process. As soon as the photographers leave, Charlie will shape change and take one of their places. They’ll pretend to have left something on the roof to gain access then leave the door from the roof to the museum unlocked. Charlie will signal the all-clear from the roof while Mick guards the hallway below. Ava and Sara will scale the building while Charlie distracts the guards with their wine. What Frenchman would refuse? Ava and Sara will come down through the Louvre, snatch the painting, escape out the alley, and they’ll all meet back at the Waverider.
After detailing the plan, Sara glances around at her crew. “Any questions?”
“Wait, where’s the fire?” Mick asks.
“For the last time, Mick, there is no fire. We’re stealing a painting not burning down the Louvre.” Sara pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. Each rendition of the plan has met with disagreement. Ava insists she handles the painting. Charlie needs alcohol to be part of their distraction. And Mick—
“It’s a stupid plan if it doesn’t have fire.”
“Noted. Okay, any other questions, revisions, or plain old bitchfests, or can we please get going? I didn’t pee before we started this, and I don’t want to have to carpet clean my couch.” When there’s only silence, and minor grumblings from Mick, Sara holds a hand over her head and smiles. “Okay, Legends, let’s do what we do best: be gay and do crime.”
<><>
Parts one and two of the plan go off without a hitch. Mick does a circuit of the area, locates the photographers, trails them until they leave, and then signals Charlie. Charlie, wearing the form of one of the photographers, heads back in and gets the guards to take them back to the roof. The guards agree readily enough. They leave a light on a timer near the ledge that will go off in two minutes, put a jam in the way so the door won’t close, and when they break out two bottles of wine and lead the way, the guards follow eagerly.
“You nervous?” Sara asks Ava, as they hide in the shadows of a nearby alley.
“I’m a professional. I don’t get nervous.” Still, her heart is beating just a little too fast. Something tells her it isn’t because of the mission.
“Are you sure? I could hold your hand.”
Sara’s fingers on hers are like an electric jolt, and Ava is too shocked to pull away. The grip is soft yet strong, just like the woman smiling up at her. Time seems to freeze around them as what started as a joke suddenly doesn’t feel like it anymore. Then a pebble bounces off of Sara’s chest, startling them both back to the present, and they pull apart.
Mick’s scowling face is paired with his angry hand urging them closer. “Cuddle on your own time,” he snaps, as he stomps up to them, ignoring their awkward attempts at denial and pointing at the light on the roof. “The guards won’t stay away long. Get going.”
Even as Mick heads back in to guard the hallway outside the room where the Mona Lisa is being kept, Ava and Sara spring into action. Ava pulls a spring-loaded grappling hook out of a ridiculously small belt pouch at her side, one of the many wonders of VR, and with a steady aim launches it into the sky where it catches on the roof ledge.
“Nice work, Batwoman.”
Ava scoffs. “You read too many comic books. I’ll head up first.”
“We can go together. I brought my guns.”
“You have guns? There’s no reason for us to kill people.”
“You’re cute when you’re morally outraged.” Sara flexes a bicep, showing off her well-defined arm in a way that absolutely does not (liar) stir something deep within Ava and make her legs a touch weak. “Hold onto me. I’ll bring us both up.”
“There’s no way you can carry me up there.”
“I’m a Revenant, remember?” Then Sara smiles. It’s cocky, dangerous, and a reminder she’s armed in more ways than one. “Trust me.”
Trusting Sara more than her own voice, Ava says nothing and clings to Sara’s back for the four-story climb to the roof. Sara proves tireless, the toned muscles of a revenant carrying them both to the top at a steady rate. For Ava, her arms wrapped around the other woman, dangling several stories above the hard streets below but with their bodies pressed together, it’s both painfully slow and over too fast.
They reach the top safely and enter through the door Charlie has propped open. The Mona Lisa is on the first floor in one of the galleries, and though both Mick and Charlie have removed some of the obstacles, there are still a few guards making rounds. Ava’s map shows the best route to their destination, so while Sara uses a spritz bottle from Ava’s pouch to neutralize their scent and throw off the guard dogs, Ava looks around each corner with a mirror on a telescopic rod to make sure the way is clear. They make good time until they reach the second floor and find all the stairs are blocked by guards.
“Doesn’t this place have an elevator?”
“Not in 1911,” Ava replies, as she frowns at her map and leads them back to the center of the hallway. “Damn, the painting is just below us.”
“I’ve got an idea.” Sara holds out her arms. “I can jump a story. Let’s go.”
“That’s not happening. You might be fine with falling a story, but I’m not.”
Sara looks like she’s about to argue, but instead, she smiles and points at something over Ava’s shoulder. “You have a rope in that bag of tricks of yours?”
“Of course. Why?” Behind her, Ava only finds a statue of a woman, naked from the waist down with both arms extended. One arm stretches out, and the other rests on a short podium.
“Give me. We’ll wrap it around her and climb down. I’ll loop the rope around the statue and then pull it loose so we don’t leave evidence.”
Ava stares at the statue. It looks eerily familiar. There’s something about the face, but there’s also something off and—
“Hey, if we’re doing this, we need to move,” Sara says, pulling Ava out of her reverie. “Those guards could come up this way.”
“You’re right.”
In short order, they have a loop of rope around the statue, and once again, Ava is clinging to Sara’s back. The trip down one story is even faster than the one to the top of the Louvre. When they reach the bottom, Ava steps away so Sara can pull the rope back. It catches, and she gives it several gentle tugs to try and pull it free.
“Hurry up.”
Sara glares but doesn’t respond. Instead, she jerks the rope, finally pulling it free. A story above, the statue spins and topples. Its arms strike the railing with the force from the strength of a Revenant, and the sickening breaking noise will haunt Ava’s dreams. Even as the rope falls and coils to the floor below, one chunk of marble after the other follows.
“Watch out!” Ava hisses, jumping even further back, as she tries to project her panic while also keeping her voice low.
Sara doesn’t move. Her hands streak out with surprising speed, and she snatches first one and then the other limb from the air. Then she turns to Ava, eyes wide, and pieces of sculpture held up. “That was an accident.”
“Oh, my God.” Ava takes several breaths into her hand, as she stares at Sara. Then she looks up at the statue that leans over the railing. With the limbs gone, she’s finally able to place that sense of familiarity. “You broke the Venus de Milo.”
“That sounds expensive. How much trouble am I in?”
“Um… none? It’s historically accurate now.”
“Oh, sweet. Let me just find a place to hide these…”
Even as Sara looks around, Ava pulls open her pouch to its full extent. “Put them in here.”
“Are you serious?”
“If it fits in through the opening, I can carry it.”
Sara drops one after the other into the shallow pouch, watching them disappear. “Where do they go?”
“I have a huge inventory.”
“Heh, that’s what she said.”
Ava rolls her eyes. “Just get the rope.”
Finally, they arrive at their destination. The Mona Lisa looks just as beautiful as always. She smiles shyly, knowingly, and Ava and Sara take just a few seconds to admire the lady before they spring into action. It’s 200 pounds of painting, frame, and case, and when they lift it, it should come off the wall.
“Why isn’t it moving?” Sara asks.
“Lift from your knees.”
“I know how to lift. I should be able to lift this. Revenants are strong. Something’s wrong. Hold on.” Sara presses her face to the wall, squinting, and then pulls back suddenly when a light shines in her face. “Fuck.”
“Sorry.” Ava moves her flashlight away but then back again to look behind the painting. “It’s not just hung on hooks. Someone bolted this to the wall.”
“Of course, they did. I knew things were going too smoothly.” Sara runs a hand through her hair, shaking it out as she heaves a heavy sigh. “You have gadgets, right? Unbolt it.”
“Sure, I can—”
“Shhh, someone’s coming.”
Sure enough, there are footsteps and the tell-tale click of a dog’s toenails on the stone floor. Above it all is Mick’s incredibly loud voice and his awful French accent.
Ava looks left and right, but a hand grabs her wrist, pulling her out of the room and into a nearby art-supply closet. It’s hardly spacious, but it’s out of the way. They can still hear Mick in the distance, but no one is growing closer.
“That was close,” Ava whispers, though truth be told, Sara is closer right now. The closet isn’t much more than shoulder-width between the shelves, and scattered art supplies keep them from moving more than a body’s width inside. They’re pressed breast to breast, practically having to take turns inhaling to have room. Ava is suddenly aware of just how good Sara smells, something spicy that somehow invokes thoughts of curling up in front of the fire with a cup of tea and a good book. It’s comforting and homey. A splash of moonlight hits Sara’s eyes from a tiny window, and the blue is breathtaking. It’s probably a trick of the VR, but it's a damn good trick. Ava’s incredibly grateful she isn’t stuck in here with Mick for numerous reasons.
“Sure was.” Sara’s smile is cocky as if she has the upper hand even hiding in a closet. “So, come here often?”
“Wh… Sara, we’re stuck in a closet.”
“Speak for yourself. I’ve been out for years.”
That takes Ava aback. She’s never hidden who she is, but it’s not something she discusses with most people. Most things aren’t things she discusses with most people. That would mean having friends outside of work. Still, there’s something earnest and open about Sara, something that says Sara accepts herself and would accept Ava too. It makes her want to drop her barriers.
So she does. “So have I.”
That damn cocky smile just grows. “So, we’re out of the closet in a closet together. That hasn’t happened to me since I went home for Christmas with my college roommate to meet her very Conservative, very Christian parents, and we both slept in her bed.” Adding the eyebrow waggle to that smile should be against the Geneva Convention. Ava’s ready to give up the location of the landing of the Allied troops on Normandy beach. “There was not a lot of sleeping.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“That’s what she said.”
Ava pushes her hair behind one ear, nearly smacking Sara in the face in the limited space. “Look, Sara, I think you’re really great—”
“Are you single?”
“... what?”
“Single, as opposed to double,” Sara says with an eye roll. “Are you dating anyone?”
“No. I don’t have time. I work a lot. I take my work very seriously.”
“Yeah, but all work no fun, am I right? So, go out with me.”
“I… uh…” Ava fumbles with her words for several moments. Sara is bright, attractive, lots of fun. Anyone would be lucky to date her, but Ava’s insecurities in this one area of her life fill her with doubts. “Sara, I don’t—”
“There you two are.” Charlie says when they yank the closet door open. “Hey, are you two snogging in here?”
“What? No. We’re… Absolutely not.”
Charlie waggles their eyebrows and peers into the closet. “Room in there for one more?”
“We’re hiding from security. Is it clear yet?” Sara asks, ignoring Charlie’s implication.
“Yeah, I don’t rightly know what Mick said to them. Gideon talked him through it, but the guards are gone. You two go and lift that painting before they get back, right?”
“We should ah…”
“Yeah,” Ava agrees, sliding carefully, painfully slowly past Sara, their bodies scraping together in a way in which hers is acutely aware. She gets a knowing smile and elbowing from Charlie, as she tries to pass them. “Shut up.”
“What? I didn’t say nothing.”
With the guards gone, the actual theft goes much more smoothly. Ava’s bag of many tools come in handy, and she’s able to get the painting unsecured in a matter of minutes. They take it off the wall, remove the canvas from the frame and case, cover it in a blanket from Ava’s bag of tricks. They stow the heavy frame and case in the art-supply closet in which they’d hidden and then head out to the alley. It looks like they’re going to make a clean getaway, and then the dogs start to howl.
“Bugger, how did they find us so quickly?” Charlie asks.
Just then, Mick comes bursting out of a doorway with a bottle of wine in his hand and a smile on his face.
Sara grumbles, looking left and right. Both their avenues of escape have been cut off. “Mick, what did you do?”
“You needed a distraction. I created a distraction.”
“Mick, did you steal from the museum? You can’t steal from the museum when we’re stealing from the museum. That would be…”
“Stealing,” Ava says.
Sara nods. “Yes, thank you. What did you do?”
“It was a friendly little game of cards that got out of hand. People get suspicious of the new guy when they find five aces in a deck.”
“Ah Mick, mate, what have I told you about trying to diddle at cards?”
“Don’t get caught?”
“Exactly,” Charlie says. “What do we do now? We’re gonna get nicked.”
A sound akin to a laugh emerges from Mick. It’s not pleasant. “Not quite. Just wait for it.”
Several seconds pass with nothing happening, and Sara asks, “Mick, what are we—”
A series of explosions rock the area, and the guards and dogs run off toward the resulting fires. With a shit-eating grin on his face, Mick says, “Now it’s a good plan.”
They return to the Waverider without further incident. Returning the Mona Lisa to Italy is anticlimactic (insert a “that’s what she said” comment from Sara here), and the group meets back on the ship’s deck again as their XP is added to their totals.
“Well, I’d say it was fun, but you’re all losers,” Mick says.
“Big plans, mate?”
“Yes, I’m going to… watch porn and drink beer, nothing to do with books. End Simulation.” Mick disappears without further fanfare, leaving the three ladies behind.
“The VR experience will cease in fifteen seconds.”
“What? Gideon, no. We didn’t log out,” Sara says.
“I am sorry, Captain, but this experience was initiated by Heatwave. By logging out, he has ended the experience. Ten seconds remaining.”
“... fucking Mick.”
“Right, that’s my cue. Sara, see you next week. Director, it was a pleasure meeting you. Hope to nick something with you again. End Simulation.” And then Charlie is gone.
This leaves only Sara and Ava.
“Five seconds remaining.”
“I’m going to send you an invitation. Accept it, okay?”
“An invitation for—”
“Just so I can see you, talk to you.” There’s a certain note to Sara’s voice. To call it desperation would be exaggerating, but it’s sincere. Reaching out, Sara grabs Ava’s hand and adds, “Please?”
Ava stares at that hand on hers, an answer stuck in her throat as a dozen different possibilities for this new complication in her life race through her mind. An automatic yes would be easy for most people, but Ava isn’t most people. Instead, she pauses, she weighs, she measures… she takes too long.
“End Simulation.”
Ava blinks back to reality, stretching on her couch before she pulls herself upright. She puts her lenses back into the case where they’re stored and automatically cleaned. The VR experience isn’t exactly restful, and that mission was unlike any she’s been on before in more ways than one. Her usual team is structured, orderly, with the occasional bit of improvisation, but the Legends were something else entirely. They were crude, unorthodox, and oddly effective if she’s being honest. Ava stares down at her hand, an odd tingle remaining, as she rubs her fingers together even though, technically, Sara never touched her. The mind is a tricky thing.
Restless and stiff, feeling like she’s suffering from a bad night’s sleep, Ava heads to the shower to unwind. In her experience, there are few things a little time and some good steam can’t cure. Afterward, dressed in casual pants, a t-shirt, and a loose sweater, she’s pouring herself a glass of wine and grabs that Rebecca Silver novel when a notification on her phone draws her attention.
VR Invitation: One-on-one encounter; Sender: White Canary
The options are to accept or decline, but there is also a details dropdown. Curious, and not one to act without as much information as possible, Ava looks those up.
“Oh.”
Though she’s never experienced a one-on-one encounter in the VR, Ava has read the entire user manual for Portal. She knows all of the simulation possibilities. There are seven two-person encounters available: living chess, ultimate warrior obstacle course challenge, martial arts training session, beach day, a walk in the park, an evening in, and a romantic dinner.
‘Romantic Dinner’ is the last thing Ava is expecting to see, but there it is. She clutches the phone to her chest and leans back, as she looks around her apartment: the white walls, alphabetized bookshelf, quarantine hourly schedule, single magazine subscription sitting neatly on her coffee table next to her coasters. Every part of Ava’s life is precisely organized, and in just one meeting, she knows Sara doesn’t fit into that mold. Maybe that’s why her heart beats a little faster when she pictures that cocky smile and those twinkling blue eyes. It isn’t because Sara fits perfectly into a little slot in Ava’s life, but because for the first time in… ever, Ava feels like those boundaries she made are a prison, and even for just a brief time, Sara has set her free.
The two options are clear, and one of them isn’t staying the course. Ava can go forward or go back. Her thumb hovers for just a moment as the reality of this invitation settles in. Finally, putting her stalling aside, she swipes ‘accept’, puts her VR lenses in place, and lays back. Quarantine is about to get a lot more interesting.