Original Identity: Sandra Lirik
“There’s no way you can help me vanish tonight?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The coordinator tilted his head to face Sandra as they walked down the dimly lit hallway. His narrow eyes crinkled in an apologetic smile that was hidden by the surgical black mask. “Tomorrow afternoon is the best we can do.”
Sandra tossed her long, wavy hair behind her shoulder with a frustrated flick. Her manicured fingers dug into the strap of her bulging handbag. “And you’re sure no one will find me here?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Coming to a stop at a metallic door, he pressed his palm on the reader. A soft ding resounded in the hollow space. The door slid open with a whoosh. He gestured with a flourish to the opened room. “Please stay here tonight.”
She pursed her luscious lips, eyeing the coordinator with a raised eyebrow. When he didn’t budge, she sighed and entered the room. Her eyes swept over the place. The space was utilitarian with a furnished kitchen bar to the far right, a corridor leading to more rooms, and a large living room on the left.
Seated in the corner were a young man and a teenage girl. Her eyes widened. She spun around to give the coordinator a piece of her mind but the door whooshed back into place. The locking of the deadbolt echoed in the expanse.
“Damn it,” she whispered under her breath.
“Come join us,” the man called out. “I know it wasn’t what you expected. Hell, it wasn't what I expected either. But the guy said they were having budget problems.”
Biting on her bottom lip, she turned with a huff. The man’s eyes twinkled as he beckoned her over. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, she stalked over to the group of couches and beanbags that lay scattered on the floor. The click of her stilettos on the floor made the teenage girl wince and shrink further into her seat.
Sandra dropped into one of the couches and folded her arms across her chest. “Just because they don’t have enough money, they decide to put us Runners together in the same shithole?”
The man’s lips twisted into a cringe. He shrugged. “I guess that’s the price we have to pay for an illegal Identity Wipe company.”
“Great,” she mumbled. “Did they say what will happen next?”
“Something about taking a pill to rewrite our biological identifiers.”
Sandra twisted her head to look at the corridor leading towards, what she assumed were, the bedrooms. “I’m going to check those out.”
“We tried.” A soft, feminine voice piped up.
Sandra turned to see the teenage girl’s eyes flit away from her. “What?”
“There’s a glass door there. We tried the reader but it denies us access,” the man explained.
She frowned. “Why would they do that?”
“Beats me,” he chuckled.
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