Opus Veda

Kasia's sleep had been faultless, her bath like paradise. For the first time in weeks she felt refreshed and cleansed.

She found Esmé arranging a bowl of fruit on the mahjong table. She joined her, took a piece, and squinted doubtfully at it.

"It's a fig Kasia…" Esmé snorted, "I went to the market this morning."

"...this morning?" Kasia checked the time, "kurwa... please wake me up whenever you need to Esmé."

"Oh I will. For now we need you to regain your strength. Eat!"

Kasia poked the fruit and nibbled. She looked around.

"This feels like a lot of effort for one recruit."

Esmé snatched Kasia's fig and swapped it for a tangerine, "all you and I have to do right now is go to ground and train, both of which I was overdue for anyway."

"Believe me, training I can do well. Will it be in a hospital?"

"A dance studio," Esmé gulped the fig down - a sign of intimacy to even be touching someone else's food, "in our section only Andrez and I come from Medical, hence the beaked masks. We're in Insurgency now - less nursey and more stabby. That's what we're practising today: stabbing."

Kasia searched the tangerine for pips and mumbled to herself.

"I'm pretty good at that too…"

They visited a clothes shop en route and worked through a list of items Kasia needed. They had to be plain and practical - casual outfits to move around normally, and sports-wear as undergarments for her uniform. A little cash was left for Kasia's imagination. She bought a winter hat and scarf, at last guarding herself from the winter.

They stopped at a cafe. And as Kasia enjoyed her first bubble tea she noticed again how bizarre her situation was. She had been walking in public - shopping for clothes - with the friendliest yet deadliest person she knew.

"I've got something else for you; take this," Esmé slid a blocky feature phone over the table, "it's set up but I need to teach you how to use it later. For now you can receive messages from us and that's good enough."

"Is it safe?"

"If you're captured we can detonate it remotely before you leak anything."

"Really?"

"No?" Esmé giggled and pinched Kasia's tea, "just keep it on you so we have your location. It's bugged so I wouldn't try getting online; remember you're due to be pronounced dead in absentia, if things go to plan."

Kasia agreed and pocketed it. These were the last people to mess with, but the temptation to launch into cyberspace and cry out to her friends - to Eva - would itch away constantly.

It had to be a test.

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Kasia felt herself waver. She asked that they move on.

The gym appeared as ordinary as everything else Kasia did with Opus Veda. Rows of attractive people worked out on machines. Every one of them looked like an influencer. It made Kasia feel insecure, yet Esmé led her through them as if it was no trouble.

No trouble to book space in an affluent and busy gym, to train in the art of terror and death. It was flagrant, obvious, and given the nightmare anyone had catching Opus Veda, brilliant.

Given the smug face Esmé shot Kasia, she knew it. She opened the studio door. The space was full of daylight, walled with mirrors and decked in laminated wood. Three mats spread out parallel; one lay in front.

Two men bickered amiably nearby. The first looked Han - black hair tied into a topknot, with a chiselled but boyish face. A Chinese Luca. He exchanged a courteous bow with Kasia.

"Kasia! Our new revolution private. I am Sīmǎ Rén."

"Hen gaoxing renshi ni, Seemah Wren."

"No no no! It's pronounced Suhma Uen."

"And it's guardsmen, not private, Suuma Uren." Kasia smirked. Sima Ren tugged the sweatband on his forehead and lifted his chin.

"Oh yes!? You would know. You can use my courtesy name Zilóng until we are close. You must still impress me in a fight."

The other man moved forward; an imposing and swarthy brute with a coarse greying beard. He grabbed Kasia's shoulder.

"Don't worry love, nobody can pronounce his name," he grinned, "Maqbool Ramgharhia."

"These two are with us on the front line," said Esmé, "the greatest father-son vigilante duo in the Middlesex area, ain't ya lads?"

"Uhm? Fuck off Esmé?" Maqbool looked appalled.

"My father was a hero you green-tea bitch!" Sima Ren flung mandarin at her, making Esmé pause to translate. Maqbool snickered and guided Kasia to a mat.

"We make up the first half our section, usually fighting up front. We have a B-team too - Kristoff and Tanya you've met."

"Yea they get to hang behind us and shoot stuff. Better gear, better survival rates..." Esmé smiled wistfully. The men grumbled.

"Come on 'Sima Ren'," Maqbool took a mat, "let's break the new girl in."

Sima Ren took the lead mat and wagged his finger above him.

"You do not call me my full name until we are close, Maqbool. Kasia! Let us stretch."

They spent hours training - stretches, cardio and core strength, strikes and sparring. Kasia put her skills to use, adjusting to Maqbool's large frame, Esmé's weaving and ducking. Sima Ren produced a bag of prop weapons and took over, using a wooden knife and a baton. His last prop was a rubber pistol. Kasia had no counter for this, causing him fall into concerned thought.

The three terrorists jostled to show off their techniques, shaming Kasia that she had none of her own. She tried to explain her ability to shoot tasers from the wrist, to find not only could her section do it better, they could fire them from their blades too. Kasia learnt Maqbool was the best fighter, with his strength and size; Sima Ren was a stern but natural teacher; and Esmé a helpful assistant. Of the three Esmé was weaker but still lethal, and could outwit even those familiar with her.

"Enough!" Sima Ren squatted by Kasia, "you fight well, but not with weapons. This is a problem we must fix."

Kasia crouched on the floor, winded and queasy.

"...what the hell is it you guys are using? Is it a martial art?"

"Not a martial art!" Sima Ren swiped the air, "martial arts are for sport. We are not playing here. I am learning to kill; you will as well."

"I think she assumes it's a martial art 'cause you're Chinese, eh Zilong?"

"Oh really Maqbool!? Okay! I will teach you martial arts, you cook me a curry!" Sima Ren clapped once, his face etched with seriousness, "we train again tomorrow. Go and rest Kasia."

Learning to kill. The one reference to their job Kasia heard all day. She showered and joined her housemate in the foyer. Esmé linked their arms and pulled towards the exit. The men sat at the bar wearing bathrobes, queueing for the sauna. They waved at the women, half-distracted, and returned to bickering.

All Kasia wanted was to fit in and impress them.