A queer sci-fi story set in near-future Toronto, when corporations have gained control of the people.
Violet’s feet hit the dust-covered concrete with a muted thud, marking her third foray into the Defiance headquarters. RJ kept an even four paces ahead as the duo made their way through the abandoned space, Violet monitoring their route from overtop of the compact rebel’s tight curls.
As they approached the Stronghold, Violet closed the gap between them, pulling up alongside RJ. “So uh,” she started awkwardly, “how long have you been part of the Defiance?” RJ fixed her with a dry, unimpressed gaze before turning back to the lockpad. Violet cringed, suddenly painfully aware of how little she knew about socializing.
Tinny clicks filled the silent void for what seemed like eons before the lock gave way. “‘Bout 4 years,” RJ finally replied with a gruff alto tone, moving the heavy concrete door aside with ease. They gestured for Violet to enter, closely following suit and securing the perimeter before falling in step beside her.
“I lost a leg working at the plant,” RJ offered up as they approached the dining hall, the candidness surprising Violet, “almost lost my life before Mercy found me.” There was a softness in the statement that mirrored the way Violet felt about the hardened woman. She wondered if the two had ever been romantic.
As the room came in view, Violet took stock of the densely populated tables, bustling with all types of activity. Her eyes made quick work of the scene, locating Mercy’s short, dark sideswept hair near the middle of the crowd. Mercy acknowledged the two with a short nod, striding powerfully in their direction. Violet couldn’t help but notice how good she looked in her fatigues and boots, her mind flooded with thoughts of how her commanding air might translate elsewhere.
“RJ, Assembler,” she nodded to each in turn.
“First things first, formalities – RJ here is my right hand.” She fixed the short ebony-skinned individual with a kind look, one that suggested more of a sibling dynamic than one of romance. “They’ve been by my side since I found them out on Spadina a few years back. Indispensable, great at recon.” RJ beamed with pride, the first strong emotion Violet had witnessed in them since meeting. She smiled at RJ, RJ returning a hesitant smirk.
“Now, anything to report?”
RJ took the lead. “The mutations seem to be occurring less frequently. I only saw one today before she,” a curt headnod in Violet’s direction, “showed up.”
Mercy pursed her lips as she took in the information. “Interesting. Thanks, RJ. And Violet?” She nearly melted into a puddle, hearing Mercy use her name, “anything on your end?” Her pulse sped up, excited that she had something to share that might be of some use.
“Yeah, actually. I think I may have found a lead on the pharma plant.”
Mercy cocked a brow. “Oh?”
“Y-yep,” she couldn’t suppress the tremor this time, “I overheard a Manager talking about drug development. They mentioned the Bay-Bloor plant in the same sentence. It has to be related somehow.”
A handful of people had begun to hover nearby, clearly hoping to overhear something interesting from the newcomer. “Follow me,” Mercy instructed, leading the two on a short walk to a room off the side of the hall, similar to the one they’d met in on her first visit. She slid the wooden door shut, giving the three of them privacy. Violet was grateful for the relative secrecy of the place, still not quite used to having so many attentive people around.
The commander took a seat at the small table, gesturing for RJ and Violet to follow suit. “Anything you share with me, you can share with RJ,” Mercy finished off.
Violet picked up the cue. “Right. So I was able to get access to a Manager’s office, but before I had a chance to look for schematics, the Manager came back. I hid under a desk and got to hear the whole conversation they were having with whoever was on the other line. Some sort of FPC higher-up.” Mercy and RJ had leaned forward slightly in their seats, listening intently.
“They were talking about something that ‘got out,’ like it was a mistake. Said it was their number one priority to do… something about it. I couldn’t catch what. After that, they were talking about the Bay-Bloor plant, the ‘drug division’ over there.” By the time she’d finished relaying the details of her expedition, she realized how insubstantial it was. She shifted awkwardly in her chair.
“I’m not sure if that’s enough to go on,” Violet hesitated, cutting her words short as both Mercy and RJ shook their heads in tandem.
It was RJ who spoke this time. “That’s more than we’ve gotten for a long time, we can work with it for sure.”
“I’m impressed, Assembler,” Mercy’s voice lilted up, “you managed to get in there pretty quickly. Good job.” For the second time that day, Mercy’s words melted over her like warm butter.
There was a spark in Mercy’s eyes, like a fire had been ignited by Violet’s words. Her eyes bore right into Violet’s, hinting at a lust that was probably more about the chase and less about her. Even still, her stomach did a series of flips at the thought.
“We can do a recon mission after it gets dark tonight. Any time after eleven should work,” RJ stated.
“Absolutely,” Mercy affirmed, the air around her crackling with excitement, “Assembler, you up for it?” It was more of a statement than it was a question.
Before she’d even clued in to what she was doing, Violet was nodding, swept up in the current of energy that flowed around her. I mean really, I’m already in treason territory, she reasoned to herself, what harm is another little adventure?
With a few hours to kill before they would depart and not much prep work needed, Mercy offered to give Violet a tour of the facilities. RJ had taken off to do whatever it was RJ did, leaving the pair alone.
Violet was impressed by the self-sufficiency of the Stronghold. Ever since FPC had taken control of the world – long before she was born, but she recalled stories from her mother – their products permeated every nook and cranny of every home. Seeing such a stark absence of their wares was a first for her, and she marveled at the ingenuity of their solutions.
They stood together in a greenhouse in what Mercy had referred to as the food storage section of the Stronghold. The air was heavy with moisture, brightly lit by archaic-looking bulbs overhead. Violet inhaled deeply, basking in the fresh unfamiliar scents of leafy greens and soil. A handful of beige-clad gardeners were scattered throughout the space, crouched low as they tended to the plants. Mercy stood beside her explaining the form and function of each crop with academic precision.
Violet listened intently as she spoke, taking in Mercy’s features at close range. Her golden tawny skin was smooth, save for a thin scar that ran from her left brow down across her cheekbone. Her eyes, downturned and monolidded, were expressive, conveying tone with each verbal inflection. Though she was a few inches shorter than Violet’s 5’6” frame, the way she carried herself – and her toned muscles – made her seem taller.
“… so we process grains and store those, along with more shelf-stable crops, in the cold room next door.” Violet realized she had completely lost track of Mercy’s speech, focused as she was on the visual stimulation right in front of her. She smiled and nodded, hoping Mercy hadn’t noticed her tuning out.
“The armory is our next stop. RJ should be ready to go soon.” She casually put a hand between Violet’s shoulderblades to guide her out of the room, the firmness sending a lightning bolt straight through her. Even if she hadn’t been lusting after Mercy already, the simple gesture of human touch would’ve affected a similar response.
The armory was a short distance down the hall, Violet following Mercy’s signature power stride. The door displayed a small padlock, currently in an unlocked state. As they breached the perimeter of the room, they could see RJ securing a smoke bomb to a utility belt, decked out head to toe in close-fitting black clothing.
“Hey,” they greeted without looking up, fidgeting with some sort of analog dial Violet didn’t recognize.
“Hey,” Mercy and Violet replied in unison, Mercy making her way to a wall cabinet. She opened it to reveal a wardrobe of garments similar to the ones RJ was wearing, tossing one at Violet. “You can change over there,” she pointed to a wall outcrop. Violet felt the weight of the textured fabric in her hands, making her way to the area Mercy had indicated. The wall just barely covered up to her neck, prompting her to turn her back to the other two as she switched outfits.
She was surprised at how well the outfit hugged her frame, barely clinging at her hips and breasts while hanging looser around her waist and legs. Mercy gave her a once-over, her gaze lingering just long enough to cause Violet to blush, a warm glow lighting up her neck and face. The women locked eyes for a brief second before they both quickly looked away.
“Looks like it fits alright,” Mercy covered, turning her attention to the hilt of a knife on her belt as her usual smooth demeanor faltered.
“Ready?” RJ broke the spell, pulling a toque down over their brow. They led the way, securing the padlock on the armory door before walking further down the hall, away from the Stronghold’s main hall and front entrance. Violet’s brief confusion at the unexpected detour was cleared up as they approached a solid metal grate secured to the wall with yet another padlock.
“This is the recon exit,” Mercy explained as RJ worked the lock, “it connects to the old underground tunnel network that spans kilometres of the downtown core. It was sealed off ages ago, after FPC shut down the transit networks.”
RJ donned a small headlamp and crawled into the dark, narrow space, gesturing for Violet to follow suit. Mercy brought up the rear, sealing off the connection to the Stronghold. The tube was claustrophobically tight but thankfully short, ending in another metal grate that RJ swung open with ease, dropping an unknown distance to what sounded like a hard floor beneath.
Violet carefully edged her way towards the opening, gingerly stretching a foot down, grateful to feel solid ground. She hopped down, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting that her own headlamp provided. She heard Mercy securing the second grate behind her as she took in their new surroundings.
Tunnels stretched to her left and right, a pervasive musty odour filling her nostrils. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt, bits of ancient garbage littering the floor, telling a story of the Toronto that once was.
RJ led the way, bearing right into the pitch-black stretch ahead. The trio moved silently save for the odd crinkle from a bit of plastic getting caught underfoot. The floors were made of an old stone-looking tile, the walls a deeper and one-shinier material. Violet could make out the odd navigational sign – PATH, it looked like – stating the names of now-defunct buildings, arrows leading ahead and behind to what were once bustling hubs of commerce. The Automation Wave had rendered each of these buildings useless, FPC taking each one over and converting them to factories, warehouses, and abandoned outposts. Many hadn’t seen the light of day since, a baffling thought when one considered their potential usability as housing.
Violet was trudging along when her boot made contact with a large crunchy object. RJ and Mercy stopped, all three of their headlamps fixing on the source of the noise. A tangle of hollow black shiny material laid underfoot, unrecognizable as FPC tech. Mercy picked up a piece of the stuff, adding it to her pack without sound before gesturing the group forward.
Eventually they reached the end of the tunnel network, dead-ending at the base of a long-forgotten bus terminal. RJ led the way through a broken fence, switching off the headlamp before heading up the stairs into a large greasy-windowed space. Mercy and RJ squatted low and Violet followed suit, watching the other two as they cautiously looked through the glass panes.
Mercy leaned close to Violet, bringing her mouth to the woman’s ear. “We’re going to head out to the streets now,” Mercy whispered, Violet fighting the full-body shiver her soft voice was threatening to evoke, “stay close to the walls. Try to move naturally. There aren’t as many cameras on Bay as there are on Yonge, and we know where they all are.” The risk of what could happen if they were caught on camera was silent, implicit.
RJ moved nimbly, a smooth duckwalk propelling them to the north-facing door. Once the other two had caught up, RJ cracked the door slightly, slithering outside and melding against the wall.
Once outside, Violet noticed the beady red eyes of two surveillance cameras, both pointing away from the crew. They used the opportunity to cross to the other side of the road, moving with the steady, spacey stride of the common class before coming flush to another wall. Thankfully, the defunct structures that lined these streets were poorly lit, each overhang providing convenient shelter from the FPC’s prying virtual gaze.
Their move north was progressing steadily until a low-flying drone swooped overhead, bathing the street in a fluorescent blue beam. Before Violet had a chance to react, Mercy pressed her up against the wall, her chest flattened between Violet’s shoulderblades, hand protecting Violet’s face from coming in contact with the brick. Mercy brought her face right next to Violet’s, breathing heavily. Violet saw RJ similarly planted face-first into the wall. With only their dark garments facing into the shadows, the three were nearly undetectable. The drone continued on its way, their path once again submerged in relative darkness. The danger coupled with the close contact flooded Violet’s body with a wave of hot adrenaline.
RJ forged on, pausing and melting into a nearby surface whenever a camera panned their way. The three had nearly made it to their targeted destination when Mercy grabbed Violet’s wrist, pulling her down an alleyway. RJ was already standing there, crouched low, carefully taking glances at a building on the northeast corner of Bay and Bloor.
They waited and waited, the night air carrying an almost-peaceful quality in its stillness. Just as Violet’s eyelids began to grow heavy, she felt RJ’s body tense beside her. She snapped to attention, watching a shipping bay door glide open, two FPC guards flanking either side.
“Supervisors,” she whispered to nobody in particular. An FPC-branded delivery truck glided soundlessly out of the building, turning west on Bloor before disappearing from their line of sight. The door remained perplexingly open as the Supervisors stood by, vigilantly watching on.
Violet’s eyes widened. A giant insectoid – the exact kind she had seen erupting from bodies on the streets – skittered at an unnervingly fast pace through the door and into the FPC building. The Supervisors followed the monstrosity, the bay door closing after them.
Her mind hummed with activity. Could this be the “priority” that Manager had been talking about? She looked at Mercy, the woman returning a knowing glance that suggested she was thinking the same. They stayed in place, watching as drones departed from the building’s rooftop with large parcels in tow. The entire front of the building was sealed off, a heavy-duty metal barrier standing in place of where a traditional employee entrance would be.
After what seemed like eons of silence, RJ spoke up. “There,” they hissed, pointing at a building on the southwest corner, “there should be a tunnel that connects to the FPC building from that entry.” It was another clearly-abandoned building, boarded up and uninviting. How they’d get in was beyond Violet, but she guessed that RJ and Mercy knew more about this sort of stuff than she did.
As if reading her mind, Mercy placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not now,” her voice was a low growl, in battle mode like the day they’d met. Violet loved it. “We’ll come back another night, with more supplies.”
Having gathered the data they needed, RJ gestured back in the direction they’d come, signalling Mercy and Violet to follow.