Andre’s private office was nestled in a corner on the 12th floor of the Sirius Software HQ. Behind the Sirius Software Portal door, the office was furnished with oak paneling and oxblood leather.

  While Andre had balked at installing the Portal, Aaron had overruled his objection.

  Nevertheless, the office exuded an air of quiet luxury, and had Andre's unmistakable touch.

  Ivan sat in a high-backed leather chair, his sleek black suit and black silk tie glinting under the OLED ceiling lights, as he waited for Andre to arrive.

  Andre entered with two coffees. His black leather ankle boots clicking on the polished granite floor.

  “All right Ivan, start from the top,” Andre said, passing a cup.

  Ivan took a deep breath, and gave Andre the quick version: Annette’s escalating ideology, the slap, his fear for Mikaela’s environment.

  "I need a divorce and custody lawyer. Someone good," he finished.

  Andre pulled a folder from the shelf behind him, and opened it.

  “OK, I think I know one that you might like,” he said.

  He showed Ivan the file.

  "Stefan Stanislaus. Reasonably priced, solid track record in custody cases, particularly for fathers, and a no-nonsense approach," said Andre.

  Ivan scanned it, jaw set.

  "I want full custody of Mikaela. Can this guy do that?" he asked.

  "I'll be honest, Ivan. The deck is stacked against you. Courts tend to favor mothers in custody cases, especially for young children. But, if we can demonstrate that Annette's behavior is detrimental to Mikaela's well-being, we might have a chance at joint custody with primary physical custody for you," Andre explained.

  "Not good enough dammit! I was forced to miss six years of Aaron's life because of her! I'm not going to let her take Mikaela away from me too!" Ivan said, voice rising.

  "Calm down, Ivan. I'm just trying to set realistic expectations. Custody battles are a mess, and they can get ugly, especially with the kinds of judges that preside over family courts. But Stefan is the best in the business, particularly for fathers," said Andre.

  "All right," Ivan said, taking a deep breath. "Set up a meeting with this guy. I want to get started as soon as possible."

  ---

  "This building is next-level," muttered Tatiana as she stepped into the lobby of Sirius Software's headquarters.

  The stark contrast of the black glass walls, black polished granite floors, and white ceiling-mounted OLED panels, coupled with the icy air-conditioning, was doing a number on her fascination with environmental psychology.

  "Aaron Zakhrov, just what kind of guy are you?" she wondered, as she heard the amplified clip-clopping of both her 8 cm stiletto pumps, and Natasha's combat stiletto heels on the granite floor.

  The echoes and reverberations forced her to match Natasha's walking speed and cadence so that the sound didn't turn discordant and overwhelm her.

  "Dr. Petrov to see you, Master Zakhrov," Natasha announced, through the intercom.

  The massive black glass door of Aaron's office hissed open, and Tatiana nervously stepped inside.

  "All right, Dr. Petrov, what's this about?" asked Aaron, as Tatiana took the seat across from his desk.

  Tatiana took a deep breath.

  "Mr. Zakhrov, I'm here to discuss the psychological effects of The Feminine Professional's uniforms and apparel. They have been causing widespread psychotic breaks among my patients, from development of fetishes to full-blown PTSD type symptoms," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  Aaron raised an eyebrow.

  "And how is that a problem? It sounds more like a trend or fad that women normally work themselves into a frenzy for," he said.

  Tatiana blinked.

  "Mr. Zakhrov, these are not normal reactions! These are severe psychological disturbances that are impacting my patients' ability to function in daily life. It's one thing to feel good in a new outfit, but quite another to be sexually stimulated while taking a customer's order, or to get a panic attack from the sound of your heels clicking on the floor," she explained.

  "I see. Out of curiosity, could you give me a summary profile of the women who react negatively?" asked Aaron.

  "They're all college-aged or slightly older, mostly in low-level service or hospitality jobs, and are mostly women's studies majors or similar," said Tatiana.

  "And let me guess, the ones who are developing fetishes are also mostly in the same demographic, except that they are law, finance or management majors," said Aaron.

  Realization dawned on Tatiana. "Oh, my God! You are trying to engineer feminist critique out of these clothes, aren't you?" she asked.

  "I prefer to think of it as reviving Western civilization," said Aaron, with a slight smile.

  "Fascinating! I was so focused on the individual mental health aspect that I didn't even consider the broader patient demographics!" said Tatiana.

  Her excitement gave way to apprehension as she saw Aaron looking at her intently.

  "Dr. Petrov, I believe that you have the skills I need to head up a Sirius Software HR department. Right now, my way of carefully hand-picking and head-hunting talent is not scalable. I need someone who can interview and screen candidates as Sirius Software expands. Would you be interested?" asked Aaron.

  "Why does that sound like you're asking me to help you build a harem of women in skirts and heels?" asked Tatiana.

  "What I'm asking you to do is far more insidious Dr. Petrov. I want you to create an environment where those misguided opinions of heels as symbols of patriarchy have no place, and anyone who holds them is weeded out. The system should be self-inoculating against such ideas," said Aaron.

  Tatiana tried to ignore the wetness that was forming between her legs.

  All this time, she had been fighting an uphill battle against the same ideas that Aaron was trying to stamp out.

  The thought of using her skills to create such an environment, where the clack of a high-heel and the rustle of a blazer was celebrated instead of vilified, was intoxicating.

  "I'm interested, Mr. Zakhrov, but I still have my practice to run," she said, looking at Aaron through her lashes.

  "That's easily remedied, you can run your practice here, in the new hospital complex that we've built. Dr. Khan will be your direct report, as she's the head of medical services," said Aaron.

  "Very well. You've got me, Mr, no Master Zakhrov," said Tatiana, extending her hand.

  "Your employee contract, and NDA is here. Sign it, and add your bank account details, and your biometrics," said Aaron, sliding a tablet across the desk.

  Tatiana picked up the tablet, signed the contracts, and added her information, trying and failing to reign in her excitement.

  ---

  Kavitha arrived at a small riverside Punjabi restaurant.

  She wore a black silk saree with a gold border, over a fitted black blouse with half sleeves.

  The silk carried a soft luster that caught the warm brass light; the border ran fine and continuous, giving crisp structure to the pleats.

  Her accessories were understated: a slim gold chain and small stud earrings, and a narrow black clutch.

  Her footwear was black patent-leather sling-back shoes with 8 cm stiletto heels, courtesy of The Feminine Professional, and her glossy black hair swept into a low bun with a center part

  Vikram waved from a corner table.

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  He wore a sleek black tailored suit that sat clean on the shoulders and tapered through the waist, paired with a crisp white dress shirt and a narrow black tie.

  A black Sikh turban sat on his head with precise lines, and a neat full beard framed his calm mouth.

  “Hi,” he said, standing to pull out her chair.

  “Hi,” she replied, sitting down.

  "So, Dr. Khan. What's a nice girl like you doing in a villain's lair that is Sirius Software?" he asked, with a half-smile.

  Kavitha giggled at his opening, before a bout of sadness came over her.

  "Well, let's just say that there were... complications at my last job," she said, looking down at her hands.

  "Well, how about I regale you with how I ended up as CFO?" asked Vikram, easing her out of her pensive mood.

  "Please do," said Kavitha, looking up.

  "I was initially a bean-counter at a two-bit accounting firm.

  Hours sucked, pay sucked even harder. I met Mr. Esposito at a car wash of all places, and we got to talking.

  Next thing I know, I'm whisked off to a crazy-ass obelisk of a skyscraper, told to sign an NDA that would make most people run for the hills, and then told to make sure the IRS can't find anything in the books of what I can only describe as a super-villain's operation!

  And here's the kicker. The books are already super-airtight. All revenue going to offshore accounts before operating capital is routed back into a bunch of US bank accounts.

  All I had to do was a few tweaks, and then bam! A hundred billion extra added to the net profit, and the IRS gets 40 billion to shut them up.

  Which is how I was then dragged before Master Zakhrov, as everyone calls him, and made into the new CFO!" he regaled, to Kavitha's amused giggles.

  A waiter dressed in traditional Punjab livery approached them.

  "May I take your orders?" he asked.

  "Yes, I'll have a butter chicken with naan," said Vikram.

  "Same for me," said Kavitha.

  "To drink?" asked the waiter.

  "Water," they replied in unison, looked at each other and laughed. Even the waiter cracked a smile.

  "Very good, I'll be right back with your drinks," said the waiter, and he left.

  Dinner was a pleasant affair, and the topics shifted from work to family, with both of them poking fun at how their parents still expected to arrange marriages for them.

  “Walk you to your car?” Vikram asked, as they stood up from the table.

  “Please,” she said.

  They went in easy silence. At the curb, she caught his eye. “This was good,” she said.

  “It was,” he agreed.

  Kavitha hesitated for a moment, "You look very handsome in that suit," she said, looking at him through her lashes.

  Vikram smiled.

  "That saree suits you, but I think I prefer that black leather number you wore the other day," he said, referring to her Sirius Software Security/Medic uniform.

  Kavitha blushed.

  "That's the first time anyone has said that to me," she said, looking down.

  Vikram took a step closer, and leaned down.

  "I find it intoxicatingly sexy that you can break bones in that uniform, but choose to heal them instead," he whispered in her ear.

  Kavitha's breath hitched, and her knees buckled slightly.

  "R-really?" she stammered.

  Vikram took her hand and gently kissed it.

  "I look forward to our next date, Mistress Khan," he said, before turning and walking away.

  ---

  Officer Brandon Johnson sighed wearily as he sat in his patrol car, parked near a Sirius Software cell tower that was just outside the Pine Springs neighborhood.

  The 50 m tall lattice tower was surrounded by a 40 m tall electric fence, with warning signs, and an additional 3 m tall wooden palisade surrounded the electric fence.

  "There's no kill like overkill when it comes to Sirius is there?" chuckled Sylvia Crawford, his partner, sitting in the car's front passenger seat.

  "Tell me about it," sighed Brandon, recalling the reason why they were parked here in the first place.

  The previous day, union crews had tried to take the tower down, only for that tower's "electric fence" to transform into a full-blown electric arc furnace the second the wrecking ball connected with the thick tungsten cables.

  The wrecking ball had smashed into, and gotten stuck on the outermost set of cables.

  It was then slowly disintegrated in a roaring shower of sparks and lightning.

  The most terrifying thing was that the fence never lost power or got tripped.

  It just kept going.

  The crane had warped, and its engine had exploded.

  Within a couple of hours, whatever debris were that still caught in the arcs had melted and oxidized into nothingness.

  Trying to cut power had proven to be catastrophic.

  The supply cables were trenched 30 m deep and were covered with layers of reinforced concrete and titanium rebar.

  Jackhammers couldn't even dent the concrete, let alone cut through it.

  And nobody wanted to try setting off the required amount of TNT to blast through it.

  After that incident, the union had quietly steered clear, but apparently, the spectacle of the fence eating a steel wrecking ball for breakfast and blowing up a crane wasn't enough to discourage local vigilantes and crackheads from trying their luck against it.

  The politics in the police precincts was another sticking point for Brandon.

  They had been given standing orders from the top, to not interfere with the attempts to remove the cell towers.

  That order was soon ignored by those in the rank and file who still took their oath to protect and serve the public seriously, but being accused of police brutality and various other complaints had soured the whole thing.

  "What kind of lunatic builds a fence like that? And how is it even legal?" he wondered aloud.

  "From what I heard, they got them classified as power distribution equipment, and not an electric fence. And it is more of a nobody else is crazy enough to build something like this," said Sylvia.

  "You seem pretty chipper about it," grumbled Brandon.

  "Hey, what can I say. I'm a sucker for bad boys, and that Zakhrov kid running Sirius is as bad as they get," chuckled Sylvia.

  "In that case, why are you sweating in a squad car with me instead of joining that paramilitary harem he's rumored to have?" asked Brandon.

  "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. But I figured staying on the force is better. I do actually like the principle of the police force, even if the bosses are being pulled by Senator Goldberg," said Sylvia with a shrug.

  "Ha ha, well I for one, am glad you're here," said Brandon. He tensed as a group of 5 teenagers approached the cell tower with a ladder and shears.

  He chirped the siren, and activated the loudspeaker.

  "Stay away from that cell tower. The fence is lethal," he warned.

  The lead teenager, gave him the bird and his other companions laughed and leaned the ladder against the wooden palisade.

  "I'm tempted to just let them cook," growled Sylvia, getting out of the squad car, along with Brandon.

  "Hey! You knuckleheads have a death wish? Didn't you see what that thing did to the wrecking ball yesterday?" snarled Brandon, coming up to the group.

  "You ain't stoppin' us, pig!" snarled the leader.

  Brandon and Sylvia moved quickly, hitting the teens with their batons and restraining them with handcuffs and zip-ties.

  "Police brutality! We is minors!" screamed the teenagers, as Brandon and Sylvia hauled them into the squad car.

  "Yeah, yeah, which is why you kids should be in school and not playing with industrial equipment," said Brandon, as he stuffed them in the back.

  ---

  "I told you before not to intervene! Now I'm up to my ears in brutality complaints and lawsuits because of you two," thundered Chief Daniels, as Brandon and Sylvia stood before him.

  "With all due respect, sir, we can't just sit here and do nothing while these idiots keep trying to take down those towers. Those things can kill!" said Sylvia.

  "Oh yeah? You know what else kills? Defunding! Police brutality lawsuits! Know what? Hand over your badges and guns! You two clowns are off the force!" shouted the Chief.

  "You can't be serious! We did our duty!" snarled Brandon. His face went pale as the rest of the police personnel formed a wall behind the Chief, their hostility radiating.

  "This is now a police union issue. We do not want rats in this house. You can leave quietly now, or we could do this the hard way," snarled the Chief.

  Sylvia took off her badge, and her sidearm, and dropped them to the floor.

  "I joined the force thinking that I was serving the public, I'm not staying in a house that kisses ass," she said, as Brandon tossed his badge and gun to the floor as well.

  "Let's go Sylvie," he said, and they quietly went to their lockers to change out of their uniforms.

  ---

  "Sorry kid, but I can't just set up a police force for your redeveloped zones. I'm a Congressman, not the mayor of Boston," said Michael.

  "Hmm, I suppose city hall is in Monica's pocket then. I'm surprised there hasn't been more pushback," observed Aaron.

  "Monica has influence, but she doesn't own city hall. We could get some city officials, council members and maybe even police chiefs on our side," said Michael.

  "All right, you know that game better than I do. Hop to it," said Aaron.

  "Damn! You're treating me more and more like a lackey you know that?" grumbled Michael.

  "Fine. Please, Mr. DuPont, get some city officials on board with our plan," said Aaron, trying and failing to make a puppy-dog face.

  "Yeah, no. Evil overlord vibe suits you better," chuckled Michael.

  "Which is why I'm leaning into it, Michael. Now go get me some allies," said Aaron with a grin.

  "Yes, Master Zakhrov," chuckled Michael, mock saluting, and leaving the office.

  ---

  "Aaron, this is Councilor Elena Park. Government Operations. Off the record, for now," said Michael, bringing in Elena, a pale and nervous-looking woman in her late-twenties.

  She wore a collarless navy-blue skirt-suit, with sensible chunky-heeled shoes, and her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

  She extended a slightly trembling hand. "Mr. Zakhrov. I don’t have the Mayor, but I have a path,"

  "I'm listening," Aaron said, gesturing to the conference table.

  Elena sat down, and took a deep breath.

  "We can charter a Sirius Zone Redevelopment Authority, with special district policing under the city’s home-rule powers. It will have a separate chain of command, separate budget, its own chief and dispatch. It exists only within your redevelopment districts and is explicitly outside Boston PD’s operational control, coordinating with BPD by memorandum of understanding, not subordination," she explained.

  "Sounds promising, what's the timeline? How soon can we get this up and running?" asked Aaron.

  "Ninety days to first sworn officers if we move fast. Sirius Software's existing security force can be deputized as auxiliary officers to start patrols immediately," Elena replied.

  "Fine, but I'll be handling the hardware and gear. Not the city," said Aaron.

  Elena nodded.

  "Your platforms can integrate under a licensing agreement with the Redevelopment Authority, so ownership stays with you, use is governed by policy. No one at City Hall micromanages your deployments," she said.

  Michael grinned at Aaron.

  "This is the parallel department you asked for, without the union knives at our throats," he said.

  "Perfect Michael. Let's get this done. I have a few calls to make to get us hardware and cruisers," said Aaron.

  "Well, Elena. We've just created a new Gestapo force. Happy?" chuckled Michael, as Elena blushed slightly.

  "Oh nothing so crude Michael. We've got titanium weave and comfortable uniforms. Not those vulgar wool ones the Gestapo actually wore," said Aaron with a grin.

  "Well, given how your compound is functioning far better than even City Hall, I think sacrificing a few cows for black leather is worth the price," chuckled Elena, standing to leave.

  ---

  "Herr Zakhrov. I've got just the thing for your new police force. Meet the Albrecht Automotive Stormkreuzer," said Axel Albrecht, pulling the covers of a massive, sleek black four-door sedan.

  "6.4 liter V8 engine, with Albrecht Automotive's signature supercharging and titanium construction. Bulletproof glass, roll cage, airbags, titanium alloy chassis and body armor package. Can hit 318 km/h and 0-100 km/h in 4.2 seconds while shrugging off standard NATO rounds," he rattled off proudly.

  "You're out muscling the American muscle cars Axel," said Aaron with a grin, as he ran his fingers over the smooth black surface of the car.

  "Please! This car is far more refined and capable than those belching tractors that American automakers call muscle cars," scoffed Axel.

  "Well, I'm sold on it. Can you have fifty units ready for the end of the month? We'll have our own security guards train on them first before rolling them out for the entire force," asked Aaron.

  "Oh certainly! I'll prep the production lines," said Axel, giving Aaron a fist-bump.