“Now introducing an amazing duo who will knock your socks off: Raine and Storm! Give it up, gentlemen!”
The redheaded Ramaris twins made their grand entrance, smiling and bowing. Sionna, or Raine, was wearing a tuxedo bodysuit and fishnet stockings, and her hair was pulled back tightly from her face. She was evidently her sister’s assistant for the show. She moved to a circular piece of wood which her sister eagerly strapped her against with leather cuffs.
Visola, or Storm, wore a long glittering green dress with long slits up the side, all the way to her waist. There were knives strapped to her thighs, and she held a saber in her hand. Visola brazenly walked up to the edge of the stage, and picked up a champagne bottle that was usually left there for her show. She smiled to the audience, displaying the bottle to them before she used her sword to “cut” off the lip of the bottle. A small uproar of excitement came from the crowd as the champagne bottle burst open.
Personally, Visola found the sabrage trick rather boring and easy; it was a trick of physics more than skill, and it was performed with a blunt sword. Nonetheless, the collective enthusiastic response of the audience made her grin. She followed this by tilting her head back, turning the champagne bottle upside down over her mouth and pouring a few glasses worth of the bubbly liquid down her throat. Much of it spilled over her cheeks and chin, cascading over her chest and over the sequins of her dress. The liquid pooled around her high heels, but she did not care. Visola had no aversion to being covered with liquid of any kind. The audience found this extremely entertaining.
Disposing of the saber and champagne bottle by ‘recklessly’ tossing them aside, she pulled one of the knives from her thigh strap. She showed it to the audience confidently, walking the length of the stage and causing the men to murmur in interest. She moved forward to a man sitting near the stage, and grabbed his tie, yanking him forward before slicing the tie off. He fell abruptly back down in his chair. Everyone laughed and cheered at the demonstration of how sharp her knife was. She giggled and winked at the man in apology for ruining his tie. He smiled at her, and she could tell he did not mind in the least.
Sauntering towards her sister who was strapped onto the wheel, Visola ran her knife along her twin’s neck. Sionna tried to act appropriately scared and vulnerable. Visola took a step back, and set the wheel spinning in one fluid motion. That should have been enough, but the audience did not know her strength. She pushed it again twice for demonstrative purposes, to give the impression that it was spinning even faster.
Moving back to the other end of the stage, Visola proceeded to throw her knife at Sionna. She rapidly chose another from her thigh to throw within a second. The men in the audience stared spellbound in amazement. When the wheel stopped spinning, Visola had thrown four knives at her sister. Two were piercing the shoulders of her outfit, very close to her neck, and another two were piercing her tuxedo coattails on either side of her hips. Finally, she took a fifth knife out from deep within her cleavage, and she aimed and tossed it right between Sionna’s thighs.
The audience erupted into applause and cheering. There was a loud standing ovation, as Visola bowed. She pretended to walk off the stage and forget about her sister, but then raised a finger to indicate that she had remembered at the last second. Even this goofy bit of drama earned her chuckles. It was an easy and good-natured audience tonight, for which she was grateful. Visola could comfortably feed off the warmth of a crowd like this one. She returned to untie Sionna. The women held hands and bowed graciously, earning even more accolades and yelling. They walked off the stage together.
When the twins entered the back room, the loud buzz of various power tools was heard. Hairdryers, curling irons, and straighteners were wrangling unruly hair while fancy electric razors were being used to deforest legs. Nail files and nail clippers were being vigorously employed in taming talons. Girls were frantically asking each other to borrow equipment; superglue to fix garments that had come apart, antiperspirant, perfume, and mascara. Noxious fumes were everywhere from the nail varnish, hairspray, and foul, nauseating mixture of beauty products in the air. To the senses, the atmosphere seemed more like a construction site than a dressing room—indeed, each of the women was her own little building project.
The twins tried to find a quiet corner of the dressing room to sit.
“Did you have to nick my pantyhose, Viso? Heavens. Hundreds of years of training and you use it mainly to annoy me! Your poor older sister.”
“Only older by a minute, darlin’. Besides, the crowd loved the expression of almost-barely-surprise on your face, and I can’t get that unless the knife hits close enough for you to feel the breeze and the vibration. Maybe draw a little blood next time to make you yelp so they don’t think you’re a statue.”
“I just know how good you are. It rather bores me to have you throw knives at me, you know.”
“I know. But you don’t have to yawn! You can at least act a little impressed!”
“I do not fear for my life or even my skin,” Sionna said with a smile. “I do, however, fear for the lives of those who would intend me harm.”
“Or even a hint of disrespect,” Visola added with a wink. The twins did not share many sentimental moments, preferring the merriment of bickering. They both were entirely secure that they cared deeply for each other underneath the surface squabbles.
“Hey,” said a woman with a thick Russian accent, “there is man looking for you.”
Visola eyed the woman’s sagging boobs disdainfully. They perfectly conformed to her personal stereotypical expectations, and this was disappointing. “Sorry, sweetheart—I am only interested in military men at the moment.”
“Why? You are better than everyone else?” the woman spat questioningly. “You are princess?”
“No, tootsie-pie,” Visola said in a supremely condescending voice as she rose from her chair and advanced on the woman. “I am not a princess, but I happen to be the elite bodyguard of one: and guess what that means?”
“Stand down!” Sionna ordered as she firmly restrained her sister. Then, once she felt Visola relax she made a show of fake gagging. “Tootsie-pie? Tootsie-pie? My goodness, Visola! Could you be any more experimental with your language?”
The Russian woman made a disgruntled noise and fished a cigarette out of her sequined bra, proceeding to light up before the twins.
“You are not allowed to do that,” Sionna scolded, eyeing the cigarette warily. “Other people have to breathe this tainted air, which is already killing us rather quickly. I know you have no idea what I’m talking about, but I can feel myself aging. Put that cigarette out immediately!”
“Why? I can smoke if I want,” she answered stubbornly, jutting out her chin and taking a defiant suck of her cigarette before blowing the air out at Visola’s face. “This man is military man. He is asking to see you now.”
Visola’s green eyes flashed with rage to have smoke blown into her face, but Sionna’s arms still restrained her. She processed the words that the annoying woman had spoken. “Really? Where is this man?”
“Why should I tell you, princess?” the Russian dancer asked, raising a thinly plucked and stenciled eyebrow. She pointed her finger at Visola threateningly. “You are rude girl.”
“You should tell me,” Visola said softly, staring at the offending finger, “because I use knives with great precision.”
The girl sized her up before turning to leave. “He is the man sitting by bar, wearing red shirt.”
“Score!” said Visola with a grin. She called out to the retreating dancer, “Thanks, lady.”
Sionna released her grip on her sister and began rubbing her own temples. “You know, there are ways of getting information from people… and just plain communicating with them which don’t involve threatening.”
“Why fix it if it isn’t broken? It’s been my surefire method for half a millennium. Oh, boy! I sure do hope this guy can help me get access to what I need. You never know when your day
is going to suddenly become more important than all the other days.” Visola cheerfully checked her reflection. “Now how do I look? Wish me luck!”
Visola had disappeared before Sionna could respond. Sionna rolled her eyes skyward before looking into the mirror and responding to herself. “You look exactly like me. Your makeup is a bit trashier, of course. Otherwise, dear sister, you are drop dead gorgeous. Also, you make every day important with that crazy charisma of yours. Good luck.”
Chapter 15: Brynne’s Bad News