Opus Veda

"You're back," Andrez peered over his book, "and how did training go?"

Kasia and Esmé dragged themselves into the safe house. Esmé collapsed on the sofa, until Andrez flicked his head to the kettle. She moaned and got up to make tea. Kasia stood shy by the door and waved at her boss. Andrez sat enthroned in the armchair, dressed in a GP's suit, studying her with cold authority.

"Kasia's a good fighter!" said Esmé, "we need to add weapons to her agenda fast though."

"Ah. I have something for you too Katarzyna," he motioned for her to sit and gave her his book, "The Shock Doctrine, by the late Naomi Klein. One of my favourites growing up. Old, but still relevant."

Kasia ran her finger over the tattered spine and checked the cover, unused to holding such an object.

She balanced it on her knees. Andrez raised an eyebrow at her.

"How have you found everything so far?"

"Good! It's… it's hard to know what to make of it."

"You're waiting for something wrong to reveal itself?"

"...kind of a running theme this year."

"You should be sceptical; you're in an unfamiliar setting where getting complacent is unwise. We aren't looking for blind followers, and you have been told to see us as terrorists.

But we are not a terrorist organisation, we are an intelligence agency. So there's one downside for you: carrying on with us means having less privacy than ever before. No one betrays Opus Veda.

The other downside is you'll see the worst in humanity, and we must cope by relying on each other. That takes empathy and trust, two things older than that book on your lap and about as unheard of. You will need empathy and trust to survive."

"You sound like my neighbour Imany… she even tried to join you guys."

Esmé returned with tea. Andrez poured a heap of sugar into his and reclined back. Esmé blew on hers and sat with Kasia.

"I was there when Imany died you know? She raised hell before she went down. When my time comes, I want to face it like she did."

Kasia felt unsure. It didn't matter how heroic Imany was, reminders of her only furthered Kasia's ache. An ache she wanted to repress.

She searched for something positive, and remembered two men from that very same hell.

"What happened to Chef? And Pierce?"

Andrez closed his eyes, satisfied.

"I shipped Pierce's body by airmail to Kensington Palace. I got Varma's reaction on camera too, a poor show from a commissioned officer."

He sipped his tea.

"I then saw a survivor from Morden base arrive to join him. A young Bantu, fierce, but shaken-"

Kasia shot up, "he's a good man! He only wants to make our country better! If you speak with him-"

"I will not. I've seen Sermon Mkenda twice and spared him twice. His choices now are to leave the revolution on his own terms, or stay with them and fight us. Even if he left them, we are invite only, and he is not the right candidate for us, good person or no.

You are. And what you will soon learn Katarzyna, is that being a good person isn't enough anymore. It hasn't been enough for a hundred years."

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"What if I see him?"

"If you meet again you'll have your face covered anyway. Though I admit, it concerns me he thinks you're alive."

"Let him find out that I'm not. Otherwise, if he speaks to Eva… She's as safe as she can be now, I made sure she's with a detective - a good one."

"Yes Gemma Alderton. A sound choice. Your daughter's quite safe with her."

Kasia was hearing too much of her old life; the one she hid from in this fantasy land of loving terrorists.

She spilled her tea, cradled herself, apologised with a broken voice. Andrez held his hand up.

"I have something with me that might make you feel better. Here."

He pulled out a tote bag. Kasia took it and turned it upside down.

A mask slid out. The infamous face of those who wreaked the worst excesses of violence. Andrez watched her reaction.

"It's yours Katarzyna. It marks you as a fighter of Insurgency Quarter; I chose it myself. Perhaps you could try it on?"

Kasia looked to Esmé for confirmation. Even touching it felt fraught with danger.

She held it up. Its face was heavy and solid, as close to white as metal could get. Its impression was brooding and feminine, its lip curled. Her finger traced the left eyelid, feeling the coarse yellow and purple bruises. A balaclava of charcoal fabric attached to the mask; she felt dome plating between its layers.

Kasia pulled it over her head, feeling it lock in over her own features. Its eyes limited her vision with a slight tint, as those looking upon her would see eyes of midnight.

She glowed with power.

"How do I make it scream? Or rather: how do I make sure it doesn't?"

"I'm sorry to say all yours does is protect your head and look symbolic," Andrez narrowed his eyes, "the additional features are absolutely not safe and take time to learn. It's no issue, those are weapons to help us situationally, not to be relied upon. Master the foundations first."

"Thank you Sir."

"'Andrez' will do; no military pretensions here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an old friend to meet," Andrez stood and fastened his blazer, "ladies."

The two weary fighters washed their dinner down with protein shakes and stretched to avoid cramps. Esmé showed Kasia how to unlock her phone and alert their section.

Then she left, saying she needed a walk. Kasia had an hour to herself, and orders to stay inside. She started Andrez's book, pushing through the archaic writing style.

The house was silent. Thoughts worked their evil on Kasia's mind. An idea prodded her head, then gnawed her stomach. Every insult and hardship wanted her attention. The empathy of Opus Veda felt too fake, and too late. The damage had been done.

No victory would save her. She could conquer the world. Make it a paradise or an inferno. Convince 10 billion people to love her, or claim vengeance upon them, one by one, as the others watched and begged. And none of it would heal the crushing grief she felt for Eva. Kasia wanted to blame society, and felt she should blame herself. She knew both were to blame. She wanted to reach out to Eva, and knew meeting her would ruin her life even more. Eva would be better alone, and yet still suffer the loss of her only family.

No way forward. The gnawing idea in her stomach reminded her it existed. Suicide would make all this go away. Her knife was here but self harm wouldn't do. There was a bath in the safe house. Two gashes and a warm tub would have her problems solved.

She closed the book, took her knife, wiped her eyes and walked to the bathroom.

"What you doing!?" Esmé barged in. Kasia went pale and stiff, given away by the weapon in her hand.

"I- I just-"

"It's cool. I can see you're struggling Kasia. It would be weird if you weren't, wouldn't it?"

"Yea… still a bit shaken from that weird fig thing you gave me actually."

Esmé rubbed Kasia's arm. She was holding something behind her back.

"I have another present for you! Two presents! The first is I met Tanya. To make amends for her blasting her mask in your face, I made her fetch the second present.

The second… well it's a sentimental thing, you can use it on the job though."

She held out a cardboard tube. Kasia grabbed it. She knew what it was.

Imany's katana. She held it aloft. It smelt of incense, took her back to Kendi Estate. She rested her cheek against its cold steel. Her tear trickled down the blade's edge.

"I only met her once," said Esmé, "but I know she'd want you to have it."

Kasia sheathed it and fastened the scabbard to her belt. A thought hit her. She tied the tanto above its companion. Their hilts protruded from her waist. Esmé applauded.

"You look amazing! A real samurai! You should give them names! How about calling the sword 'Imany'?"

"The knife should called Imany, that's the one she gave me. The sword…" Kasia toyed with the katana's hilt, "I promise I won't tell anyone, but, how about 'Esmé'? If you don't mind of course! Just, it's beautiful, but also dangerous. Like you, I guess..."

Kasia blushed. Esmé's face shone brighter than ever. She covered her mouth.

"I definitely don't mind. I have to tell Zilong he'll be so proud of me!

But, Kasia, it is a weapon, designed to be used as one. Are you willing to use it? To take a life?"

"I've already done it once."

"That was self-defence. I'm talking about war, about execution."

"I'm ready. I owe it to you to. I'll do it."

"That's good, because I should warn you: your first one's tomorrow."