Radost' Moya

Seven years ago...

The lines of the teleportation pad glowed as if hot, but neither pair of feet leaped from its surface. First to step down from the silver platform was the larger pair of black boots, still wet with melted snow from another nation. The man was tall, brooding and mustached with a look from another era from the thickness of his facial hair, to the shaved sides of his head, to the bowl cut above. His trench coat was still specked with white, and his breast pocket bulged with a pair of cigars he had no intention of sharing. His half-lidded gaze, and curt nods to the two corporate security guards flanking the exit, indicated as much.

A second pair of shoes followed: polished white, unblemished by snow, and strapped to pubescent feet of a girl half the height of her guardian. A turquoise dress, old but well-kept, was frilled enough to hide her budding youth, and shy glances with wide, green-blue eyes under comically erect blonde pigtails. At the base of either of her almost antenna-like bindings of hair sat small, metallic discs, each decorated with a faux sapphire the size of her thumb. "Jacob..." she whispered.

"It's alright, Tricia," the man managed with surprising warmth. His huge hand patted her head, engulfed it so that it made her laugh, and the two walked forward. The facility was hidden, but hardly humble: the master hallway that joined it to the only entrance and exit was filled with gorgeous lamps set to float by minor enchantments, each forged from silver and gilded in almost an equal amount of gold. The magical flames therein gave false life to the reliefs on the walls, depicting all manner of contemporary gods and those long forgotten, and the petite child watched them in awe as she was led by the hand. Towering doors of oak, ten pairs in all, flanked their movement to the opposing end of this place, each sealed save one where, as far as Tricia could tell, they were keeping some form of avian zoo. She nearly tugged Jacob towards the doors, and towards the free-flying birds of paradise that swept between the cages, before an attendant standing thereby noticed her and, with a spooked look, quickly closed the door again.

A moment later, a bitter child and her tired guardian stood in a room of incense smoke and a moody blue lighting. Pillows covered every inch of the chamber that Tricia found, each either blue or so agreeable as to be cast in blue by the unseen radiance of this wide chamber; even its sole occupant, a middle-aged Ukrainian woman, was cast in blue, though Tricia could tell her hair was midnight black and her eyes, covered in cataracts, could not see them. She sat up, and her body was so buried in sparkling silks that Tricia couldn't be sure there was a body from the bottom of the stranger's neck down. "[Holy Daughter,]" Jacob greeted in his booming Russian, "[we beg your forgiveness.]"

"[Holy Son,]" she replied with a smile, her gaze unfocused and just off from Jacob's direction, "[ours have nothing to regret.]" She turned slightly, and stared just over Tricia's head. "[But you have another with you, yes?]"

Jacob patted Tricia's back, and at once she was terrified to approach the stranger. The milky white of her bared eyes was frightening; her smile seemed dangerous to Tricia. Her fear began to spike, and she started to engage her breathing exercises.

"[My name is Alyona, girl. Do you understand me?]"

There was more sadness than malice in her voice, Tricia decided. "[N-No.]"

Alyona's face brightened with a grin, "[You've taught her Russian so quickly? Were her parents-?]"

"[We did not,]" Jacob corrected, "[but her inhibitors allow for translation... she believes she is speaking English.]"

"[I am,]" Tricia huffed.

The woman laughed at Jacob; Tricia decided she liked the woman, her scary eyes and all. "[Oh, I do like her spirit... but now, let us see where that spirit will best save the world.]" It was a general statement among the Gorbachev; it was the gift from Gaia that charged them with saving humanity, after all. Even knowing that, Tricia took half a step back as if intimidated. "[Do you fear me, child?]"

"[N-No.]"

The mystic smiled. "[Then stay brave for us all, Tricia...]"

Tricia had been told of what to expect, but the inhibitor knotting the base of her left lock of hair still activated to strangle the fear from her mind when the woman's head split open. The Eye revealed, a black sea of stars zooming inward towards an iris of silver light, was known as Foreboding: a gift of vision, of the ability to taste the future, of the potential within a subject so observed... and, for the Gorbachevs, acted to sort them to their righteous roles in the world. Jacob was a healer and crafter; his was the role of a guardian of man, as well as a guardian of youths. Tricia was merely one of his six charges, her brothers and sisters in the new, strange foster family.

She was growing used to it, even as her mind went to her parents here before the sparkling Eye of a Gorbachev. Mommy... daddy... The labels had lost their old glory when Jacob, in seeking to instill in Tricia a fear of her anger, a phobia of ever opening her Eye of Hate again, had told her the truth of her parents: she was a monster to them. She terrified them, and they happily signed her away. The pain twisted in Tricia, but she had no one to blame but herself. The Eye of Foreboding dragged that pain before Tricia, dragged her whole, short life to the forefront of her mind... and cast it into the sea of potential. Alyona whispered as she did these things. Tricia remained mesmerized with the glittering Eye. "[The Tree of Life buries its roots into the past and into the future... may all of Gaia's creations know them, and through them be known. I now know you... and so I have always known you-]"

Tricia blinked, and the woman's Eye suddenly snapped shut as she whimpered. Tricia looked at the crying adult, stunned as Jacob ran past her and to the woman's side.

"[What happened? Are you alright-?]"

The woman grasped Jacob's head and hissed into his ear. Tricia strained to listen, but grasped only the slightest hints of it, translated poorly by the BCIs on her head. "[... hate... reason... dangerous... cannot...]"

Jacob's eyes widened, and then narrowed as he focused on the sobbing words of the woman who had seemed so powerful, so confident a moment ago. Tricia remained frozen in place, waiting to find out what happened. Did she need to apologize? Did she do something wrong? She hadn't a clue how she could've, but when Jacob finally turned to her, with his eyes harsh and cold, she was sure she had done something wrong. "I'm sorry," she whispered in English, "I-I'm sorry..."

"What for, my child?" He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

"I... I-I don't know..."

He nodded solemnly, and put a firm hand on her head. It was not as comforting as it once was. "Do not worry; I will take care of this."

The woman remained silent, save her occasional sob into her silks. It was the last time Tricia would meet a Gorbachev other than Jacob for the next seven years.

Present day...

"I'm not in any hurry to leave," John whispered. Her arms trembled as they slowly reached around him, so careful in how she hugged his waist back as if he might burst. John held his breath until he felt the **** of her hug, and the warmth of her tears on his chest. What... can I even do? He raised his right arm, and she squeezed him more firmly as if he were about to let her go. Instead, he gently caressed her head, raising his other hand to rub her back as well, letting the girl squeeze out the misery balled up inside her. I can't risk using any telemancy on her... what if it triggers something worse? But it's all I could do to fix this... that or help her find the last Eye, if that would even solve it...

"Do you hate me?" His hand traveled down to her ass and gave it a vicious pinch. "Aah!"

"Shut up," John grumbled, rubbing the wounded butt with a heal. "You should hate me, not the other way around."

She shook her head, rubbing the cooling tears into his skin. "Never... but after everything I did... and I don't know what I did, but I didn't mean... I didn't-"

"Shh," John urged, "everyone's back to normal." Hopefully. "Right now the only one who needs help is you... and... and I should've maybe figured that out from 'go.'"

Tricia remained silent, but finally unwrapped her arms and stepped out of John's own grasp, her palms busying themselves as she rubbed her face dry. She remained completely naked, save for the tattoo of the ring that bound her to John.

He looked down at his own offending hand, now absurdly riddled with tattoos. No one ever asked about the others... but I should probably start wearing gloves or something... "Tricia-"

"Do you love Moira?" Her gaze was caged behind spread fingers, but he could still feel her dread-filled, red-eyed stare. The gemstone Eye on her forehead had vanished... but another Eye, still closed, formed in its place.

John considered it. I mean... she's hot. Like really hot... and so is Tricia... and... well, that's not really her question, is it...?

"So you do..."

"Not... the way you probably mean it," John confessed. Tricia's brow furrowed. "I'm serious! I'm not going to deflect or lie if I can manage it, Tricia... not after everything that's happened."

"Then what do you mean? Do you share some... perfunctory affection, perhaps for the political gain within the Brighton family? Is anal sex so attractive that you would maintain that relationship for nothing more?" Self-doubt molded her body language as she continued in a quieter voice, "Is her anal sex so much better-"

"She's..." John's mind wrestled with the uncouth, honest truth, but he kept his word. "She's sexy, and she seems kind of into it, and I'm kind of into it."

"Then you've already made your choice." Tricia turned to walk towards her computers, except John was already there, blinked into her path. She looked ready to run sobbing into her computers.

"I've made ****."

A green shimmer in her Eye as it sleepily opened just a crack, and a familiar, jealous anger twisted her features. "But y-you like Moira."

"I met her the same day I met you, you know-"

"You really don't hate me?" Tricia began to pace around him. He nodded more earnestly, happy to see the Eye remain mostly closed. She calmed down as if she weren't on the verge of bawling only a second ago, and John struggled to not feel incredulous about her emotions. She continued to press him, her voice urgent."You... you understand the parameters of my attraction to you, don't you?"

"... Not really, I guess-"

"I love you." Her voice cracked, and she took a step forward, chewing on her lower lip as she quivered with the exercise. John didn't retreat, and she continued to circle him, now within arm's reach. "I... I find this entire scenario intimidating, and new... and I don't know how many experiments I can run between you... and I..." She paused before him, morose in her expression. "I'm so terrified of expending my last opportunity to learn with you; I don't want you to hate me, but while distance or neutralization of my emotions may have aided in preventing any animosity, they simultaneously prevent progress..."

"I already told you-"

"You told me you loved me!" Tricia's face wrinkled with another wave of sorrow. "And I... I was so... so happy, John, when I thought you mirrored my feelings, but now I realize the truth of the matter-"

"How do you expect me to match you?" Confusion danced across her face as she sought an explanation. He stood a bit straighter. "I feel something... but I don't think anyone feels love, or anything else, the way you do."

Her gaze fell to the space between them, and she drew closer enough to let her fingers daintily toy with John's penis, making him flinch as she so carefully teased him. She whispered her words, her expression unreadable. "But you... you do feel... something, right...?" The green Eye fled... and another opened in its place.

What kind of roulette game is this?! She gave his meat a gentle squeeze. "Y-Yeah," John stuttered, "a few things, right now..."

The hands then squeezed less gently, and the Gorbachev did her best to stand confident while gripping his cock. "Do you love me?"

I'm pretty sure this isn't very fair... "Would you believe me if I told you 'yes'?"

"Of course!" A long pause. She kept her gaze to his abs, and gave a single, **** pump of his meat. A slight dip in her face showed her defeat. "... no, not really."

"I like you." The Gorbachev let John go, and hugged herself as he took her back into his arms. "I've known you for about four days now, and despite being married, we can't pretend it's reasonable to think we'd already be... more, right?"

"Did... did you not impregnate me?"

John sighed with a tired smile. "I took it out while you were sleeping." She looked up at him, and John was ready for a sigh of relief, a look of gratitude... certainly not wide-eyed horror and a trembling lip. Another Eye, now on her hip, shimmered with a familiar, silver gleam. "I-I mean... it's in stasis! It's safe, in my inventory! I... H-Hey, there's no need to-"

"W-Why did you abort our child?!" A familiar black line began to form on her left breast, and was halfway opened as she blurted out in rage. Eyes continued to open on her, and she stared down at her body in obvious distress.

"O-Our- oh... I mean, are you...." Shut her down, quick! "... I mean, are we anywhere near where we should be having kids? Besides, you were so scared-"

"But it was ours!" she shrieked, tears flowing freely from her eyes over reddening cheeks. A second Eye of black and red, and the first opened wide as it looked about, seeking an enemy to annihilate. She suddenly lunged forward to hug him, pressing some of the strange-feeling orbs against his bare skin as if that might smother them. "Please, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." she cried, **** to not have him leave. The Eyes opened and closed, peered about in confusion as her fear of being abandoned anew wrestled with everything else this terrible hour had brought.

One of the Eyes blinked as the head of John's manhood poked it, and the sensation was not one the Gamer would soon forget. "I can put it back, i-if that's what you really want..."

Tricia opened her mouth, full of confidence... and then the Eyes began to literally wink out of existence. The mighty Gorbachev began to tremble as fear took her back into burying her face into his chest. "I... I want so many things..."

"I know..."

"Y-Your heart is... beating so fast..."

"You can be pretty scary..." The blonde didn't react. She really doesn't know what she's doing sometimes, huh... "... but I still want you in my life, if that makes sense?"

Tricia ceased fidgeting, but didn't dare meet his eyes. "Is... this an elaborate means to communicate some form of love for me? Even without the limitations of my suit, I've never been very perceptive of such efforts-"

"I'm asking you to talk to me whenever you need to," John whispered, "and to let me help you through this."

She looked up at him, still red-faced, still stained with tears, but with a genuine curiosity of a child. "Why...? Why do you want... t-to..."

"Because..." Why do I want this? He let his mind wander as he tried to find the right quantity... the truth behind those mad words the night before.

"No, no one ever... no one ever remains on my premises for longer than they must, or in my presence for longer than is deemed necessary. So why are you the exception?" An accusing wrinkle in her brow broke the childlike wonder as John continued to ride the emotional roller coaster of a Gorbachev. "Perhaps you perceive my weakness as worthy of pity."

John remained silent as he tried to contemplate an answer.

"Is it the sex? I admit, our marriage may mean my goal of negotiations using my hymen has technically been completed, and I would not object to remaining your wife with a perforated hymen. But of what use-"

"I want you," he concluded.

"W-What?"

"To put it another way..."

Another destructive Eye opened. Of course, she thought, I've been so foolish... he saw how effective I was in combat. He sees how the Brightons use me... and he wants me, too. "You want to use me-"

"I'm happier with you in my life than I would be without." Tricia bit her tongue, but didn't flinch. The Eye shut violently. "... If that's alright with you?"

No one was happier with Tricia in their lives. The Brightons called her when needed; Jacob called her when necessary; her parents didn't call her at all. She had no friends, no true family, and no sunlight that she allowed on her true skin. Even her real name was unknown to almost anyone. What John suggested... was not merely improbable, but proven false by precedent.

So why should she believe John Newman, a man with less than four days of being acquainted with her? Why did her heart threaten to explode? Why did she yearn to accept this?

"That would be great..." she squeaked...