Daughter of Zeus ✔

9

Planning a murder was hard.

With all the twists and turns, Ada found herself becoming more and more knotted up. Things seemed increasingly out of her control, and she hated that feeling.

The endeavor she so rashly began required a lot more than just ending a life. There was groundwork to lay and evidence to cover up. Organization wasn't really Ada's thing. Not anymore.

It was like Kressick said, Ada was gonna get herself killed. Unless proper precautions were taken.

Ada returned to Moretz's office, after everyone had cleared out for the night. A deep purple had painted over the sky, with less particles flying around than she was used to seeing. Even if the air was a bit cleaner, she was grateful to have the Clean and Clear her mother left behind. Her lungs already felt lighter, and her breath was slow and imperceptible, like a rich person's. If she wasn't using the medical tech, Moretz might have been able to make her early on. Quick and labored breathing was a giveaway for Tramps and N.A.'s.

Seven o'clock, and there was time before the dinner date to take care of pre-murder plans. What would slow her down were the mercenary bots. She could send electric shocks their way, but a quick scan of their surface programming and she learned when they went offline, an alert forced authorities to respond. The bots needed to be operational and compliant.

After some time, from a safe distance, she adjusted their code. Her patch was temporary and ongoing because the bots were initially programmed under a constantly changing code, therefore hard to crack. Whoever wrote the code was a genius.

Inside the building, everything looked different in the dark. Ominous. The lobby was silent, and no matter how she tread, her footsteps echoed. The receptionist hub hummed, two red lights blinking from the monolith desk. They were like eyes, watching her move down the hall to the left.

In the limited emergency lights she triggered, the walls lining the hallway appeared liquid. The polished onyx surface undulated, threatening to swallow her, which was a lot like looking Moretz in the eye.

Along the dark wall, she groped for the panel. At her touch, it awoke.

"How did you get—?"

Ada cut off the machine's initial commands and input her own. The completion of the phrase would have triggered the alarm.

Let me in the office.

There was an internal flicker. The bots—she nearly forgot to keep her mind on decrypting and re-writing their code. The damn things were still trying to override her. The struggle drained her, but she maintained the decryption.

"Please come in," the wall interface droned.

Under Ada's control, the sassy voice changed.

"Thanks, sugar pop."

She had the urge to fry the machine, but it passed.

Devoid of Moretz's larger-than-life presence, the office was a tomb. In the center, the desk shone in the scant light like the top of a sepulcher. On the walls, the digital photos glittered, the smiling and laughing faces freaking her out a bit. She wished she weren't being watched. The red strip sparkling along the wall was a myriad of cameras recording everything.

Off.

The red strip disappeared, the hum of its power source quieting. She proceeded to access the main command from the desk panel, which was a hand-and-voice command unit of impressive caliber. At her will, the desk unit awoke, a beacon in the dark room. Pictures, programs, and voice units buzzed on the desktop. Once inside the command program—much easier to access than the mercenary bots—Ada combed through Moretz's personal files, especially his financials. His overall net worth spiraled out to a ridiculous amount. He could pay for the hell he'd put her through and still live comfortably.

Not that I'm going to let him live.