Chapter 129. A Matter of Self-Control

[Tactical Mode Activated.]

My consciousness smoothly slipped free of my physical body, leaving the motionless shell behind in the driver’s seat. Time stopped, giving me the opportunity to systematically assess the nature and direction of the threat.

My first thought was Leon again. His blatantly provocative methods were already starting to wear thin. Given the colonel’s level of access to communications channels, he could easily have intercepted my conversation with Danny and worked out a simple plan that fit his logic: rattle me, put me under stress, and force me to make the “right” decision in favor of his agency.

Apparently, my forceful lesson had not been enough to teach that war dog to stop nipping at my heels.

I instantly scanned the cabin. No saboteurs or unfamiliar objects. My mental body slipped through the closed door and outside. No drone on the roof, no telltale spark of an explosion, no sniper scope trained on me from the rooftops of the buildings across the street. I flowed through the metal hood, checked the engine compartment and undercarriage. Nothing.

Yet the mode never activated by mistake. The internal safety algorithm triggered only when there was an immediate threat to life or health. A fly buzzing past or an accidental pat on the shoulder was simply not enough to make the system react.

Then a cold, calculated realization hit me: I was not the only subject affected by my interface.

My mental vector shot upward, cutting through floors and concrete walls, straight toward the second floor of the fitness center where Maggie was working out. If Leon was behind this... I was not about to forgive him for playing operational games with the only person close to me. In that case, my hypothetical plan to quietly eliminate him somewhere in the Arizona desert would move from the realm of theory to the top of my priority list.

But it was not Leon.

I hovered beneath the gym ceiling, taking in the scene. Maggie was surrounded by a group of ten local football players, the same entitled pack we had already clashed with over a facility reservation. Their leader, a guy with the idiotic habit of keeping his sunglasses on even indoors, was already reaching out, preparing to clamp his hands around Maggie’s shoulders.

The rest of the pack stood behind him, laughing like idiots and enjoying the spectacle. Absolute, consequence-free arrogance was written all over their leader’s face. Whether he was planning some crude flirting or trying to intimidate her physically did not matter in the slightest. He had made one fundamental mistake: he had tried to put his hands on my mother.

[Demoralization.]

A precisely targeted mental impulse was enough to make the confident smirk on his face slowly collapse, giving way to an instinctive, animal fear. That had been enough to neutralize him last time, but I was not sure it would be enough now. Maggie was alone, and there were a lot of these thugs.

I shifted my focus to Maggie herself, and I absolutely did not like the position her body had been caught in.

Her heel was already beginning its trajectory toward his knee, while her thumbs were rigidly positioned for the follow-up move, aimed straight at his eye sockets. Pure, concentrated Krav Maga. A military combat technique designed to produce a guaranteed lethal outcome or permanent disability.

Maggie could not possibly know these techniques. Official instructors did not teach anything like this to civilians. There was only one explanation: while we were linked, she had pulled a massive amount of data directly from my brain.

As long as we remained within the interface’s range, her nervous system had effectively synchronized with my server. The system automatically optimized her biomechanics for maximum damage. That was perfect for training, but right now her body had automatically selected the most brutal protocol available.

Maiming this guy in an upscale fitness club would be a strategic mistake. We were not in some deserted alley without security cameras, where we could leave a couple of bodies behind and disappear into the night without a trace. We were in a commercial establishment where our personal information was on file at the front desk. Severe injuries meant guaranteed lawsuits, police involvement, and unwanted publicity. And considering that the local alpha was probably a player for some local football club, the problems would have piled up fast. I needed to fix this immediately.

[Special Command: Maggie, switch to soft neutralization. Apply Jiu-Jitsu.]

I watched with satisfaction as the trajectory of her movement changed instantly. Her knee lowered, her fingers relaxed, shifting into soft, open grips. The threat of escalation was eliminated.

I was yanked down from the ceiling and forcefully pulled back into my physical body. Tactical Mode ended. Time resumed its normal flow.

I yanked the door handle, jumped out of the car, and silently climbed the steps to the main entrance.

“Mr. Ross?” The girl behind the desk stared at me, batting her mascara-coated eyelashes.

“Follow me,” I tossed over my shoulder without slowing down as I headed for the stairs.

The scene on the second floor was satisfyingly complete. Ten athletic young men stood frozen along the wall, their faces slack with shock, completely speechless. In the center of the room, Maggie calmly held their leader down with a controlled, practiced movement, his face pressed against the rubberized floor. The guy was openly whimpering and begging to be allowed to go home, still under the effects of [Demoralization].

“What’s going on here?” the girl from the front desk asked as she hurried over, her eyes widening in shock.

“I’d like to know that, too.” I calmly folded my arms across my chest and surveyed the situation.

Maggie wisely loosened her hold and stepped back. Aside from some slight redness on his neck and a rumpled T-shirt, her opponent showed no visible injuries. The guy immediately jumped to his feet and bolted toward his group, scooping up his fallen sunglasses from the floor as he went. The accessory was not even cracked. A clean, flawless neutralization with no excessive force. No wonder Jiu-Jitsu techniques were so highly valued in police academies.

“I was just trying to introduce myself!” the alpha whined indignantly, appealing to the administrator like a kid complaining to the principal. “That crazy woman just attacked me out of nowhere!”

“That’s not what happened at all.” Maggie calmly walked over and stood beside me. “This group barged into a restricted area and demanded that I give up the equipment. When I refused, your client got physical.”

Her voice was calm and measured, like a seasoned attorney’s. As if she had not been fighting a minute ago. I liked what I saw. If that was how I came across to everyone else, I could understand why Leon wanted so badly to recruit me into his department.

“None of that is true! Not a word of it!” the alpha shouted, trying to win by being louder. Too bad the [Demoralization] effect had worn off. “Guys, back me up!”

The ten athletes immediately started nodding and talking over one another. The administrator looked completely overwhelmed. It was a deadlock. There were no security cameras in the VIP rooms for privacy reasons, so there was no way to determine who was actually telling the truth.

The one thing in our favor was that the employee did not blindly side with the larger, louder group or rush to judgment.

“I believe her over a bunch of guys with zero self-control,” I said, stepping forward and taking control of the situation, forcing the crowd to quiet down. “You didn't exactly impress me with your manners the last time you were here, either.”

“You again?” The guy took a couple of steps toward me, puffing out his chest like a rooster. “What the hell are you doing here? You looking for a fight?”

“Anytime. In the ring. There's a great boxing gym three blocks from here.” I watched with cold curiosity as his bravado instantly faded under my direct stare. “Now, be a good sport and explain how you even got into a restricted area.”

“I opened it with a key, genius!” He arrogantly shoved a magnetic access card in my face.

I snatched the card with a quick, precise motion and compared it with Maggie's.

“You really got some nerve, don't you? Give me that card back!”

He shrieked and puffed out his cheeks, like a little mutt yapping behind a tall fence. In the past, that kind of petty arrogance would have thrown me off balance or provoked an impulsive response. Now, I simply did not care. The changes to my brain chemistry filtered emotional noise out as useless garbage, leaving only a cold analysis of the facts. And I spotted the discrepancy instantly.

“Her access card is for Sector 39. His is for Sector 39-A.” I held both cards out in front of the now-pale employee. “The only difference is one letter in the designation.”

“Crap... I told you guys we'd mixed up the doors,” one of the football players in the back row whispered, grabbing the back of his head.

“Maybe you can explain why, in a VIP facility that guarantees complete privacy, a master key for one room can unlock the room next door.” I loomed over the girl, leaving her no room to dodge the issue. “That's a direct violation of the terms of your service agreement.”

“I... I need to contact the manager right away...” she stammered, then hurried down the hallway toward the front desk.

The football players did not stick around to wait for management to sort things out. They quietly and quickly slipped back into their own room across the hall and closed the door behind them. There was no point dragging them into a prolonged conflict or making an example of them. We had no legal grounds to call the police, and using force to settle a stupid everyday dispute would have been a waste of resources.

“How are you doing?” I asked once we were alone in the room.

“Same as always. Ready to fly to the moon.” Maggie gave a smug little snort. “Our brains work the same way now. Stress just disappears, like this whole thing happened six months ago. At first, I wasn't sure these changes were actually useful, but I have to admit, life is a lot more efficient without constantly replaying every grievance and worry in my head. Before, I'd have gone over that conversation in my head for another week.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, walk me through exactly what happened.”

“They came in, and I immediately lost my hyperfocus. He moved in and tried to grab me. Then there's a gap of a couple seconds, and suddenly I'm already pinning him to the floor. Tom...” She narrowed her eyes and looked straight into mine. “Did you use [Special Command]?”

“Yes. Without the adjustment, his knee or eye sockets would have suffered fatal damage.” I noticed the slightest twitch of her eyebrows. “Did you like the soft-neutralization technique?”

“I didn't have time to really process all the details, but it was completely effective. No question.”

“Over the next few days, I'll drill the basic Jiu-Jitsu techniques with you. We'll burn them into your muscle memory so that, in a critical situation, your nervous system automatically produces a guaranteed nonlethal result.”

“Sounds like a great plan.” She smiled.

“Want to finish what you started? I can arrange an official sparring match with him in the ring. Give him a couple of bruises. He won't even be able to file a complaint because it'll all be within the rules of the sport.”

“Not worth it. He's already off my radar.” Maggie narrowed her eyes with a sly smile. “You should've heard that ‘alpha male’ squealing when I locked his elbow. Whatever reputation he had with that pack is gone.”

The girl from the front desk returned almost half an hour later. Judging by her anxious expression, her conversation with the manager had clearly gone badly. She was carrying a hefty basket filled with premium fruit, sports drinks, and protein bars. She had obviously grabbed whatever was available at the counter in a hurry, hoping to smooth things over with an unhappy customer.

“Our service team has already been called. The locks and access cards will be replaced. On behalf of the company, I sincerely apologize for the mix-up.” She rattled off the words as she held out the basket. “Please accept this complimentary gift from the facility.”

I looked at Maggie. The incident had happened to her, so the final decision was hers.

“Apology accepted.” She calmly took the basket.

A pragmatic approach. We both preferred to put unproductive incidents behind us rather than waste time on pointless grudges.

“Ready to head home?”

“Absolutely not!” Maggie transferred the basket into my hands. “I haven't hit my quota for today!”

I activated [Special Command] on her again, returned to the parking lot, and settled into the driver's seat.

Megan's contact was displayed on my smartphone screen. It was time to request another batch of data for analysis before making the final decision.