"This thing is definitely not built for covert operations." chuckled Natasha to herself, hearing the leather creak, and her boots click with each step as she walked across the compound to the temporary office.
She entered the office, grateful that nobody had seen her yet. While she appreciated the look and the functionality of the uniform, she was still a little self-conscious about it and still felt it was more costume than uniform.
"Natasha Parker, reporting for duty." she announced into the intercom outside Aaron's office.
The door opened, and she entered the office.
"Any issues with the fitment Ms. Parker?" asked Aaron, gesturing for her to sit down.
"No sir, however I do have some questions." replied Natasha, sitting down in the chair, masking her surprise at how well the uniform yielded despite being loaded with gear.
"Go ahead." said Aaron, leaning back in his chair.
"First, why this kind of get-up? This hardly looks like a normal security guard uniform." she asked.
"Let's just say it is a test-run for the eventual kind of security I intend to replace my contracted guards with." said Aaron with a smirk.
Natasha folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him.
"This office and compound are not in their final forms, Ms. Parker. Your uniform might look out of place now, but once my headquarters are finished, those aesthetics will blend right in. And as you have no doubt assessed, there is function behind that form." replied Aaron.
"That may be true in the future, Mr. Zakhrov, but right now, I feel like a cosplayer, not a security guard. I appreciate the engineering, but why couldn't I get a normal guard's uniform?" asked Natasha, unimpressed by Aaron's answer.
"Reason number one. I refuse to compromise on my aesthetic vision and control. All that does is allow the riff-raff obsessed with blandness and uniformity disguised as gender equality get a foothold in my company.
Reason number two. Image based intimidation is the first line of defense, particularly against social-justice obsessed vermin and their political backers who are my chief enemies. The more they are provoked, the better.
Reason number three. When I saw your application profile and your performance in the skill test, I decided that I wanted you not as a random security guard, but as my personal bodyguard, head of security and as arm-candy deterrent against honey-traps and gold-diggers. And I like my arm-candy to reflect my tastes.
So what will it be Ms. Parker? Are you going to embrace that uniform and everything that comes with it? Or are you going to go back to the safety of the ill-fitting polyester skirt-suit and pumps you arrived in?" asked Aaron coldly.
"I'm almost old enough to be your mother, and you want me as arm-candy? I don't know if I should be flattered or furious." muttered Natasha, blushing crimson, shocked by his blatant and twisted reasoning, and in denial that the uniform had taken 10 years off her appearance, making her look no older than 25.
"I'll give you 30 minutes to make your decision. If you decide to accept my offer, report back here in uniform. If not, I expect you off my property by that time. Dismissed." said Aaron icily, turning back to his computer.
----
Natasha leaned against the closed door of Aaron's office, her mind reeling from the conversation.
Aaron's audacious and blatant reasons should have had her storming out of his office, or even earned him a punch or slap in the face.
Instead, they spoke to a part of her soul she thought that she had already made peace with - the idea that she'd never serve a higher purpose in an organization where she felt valued.
Her stint in the military had been short. She had been disavowed by the CIA after barely a year of service, and had been working as a private investigator for Senator Clarke and now Monica Goldberg for the better part of a decade.
As a private investigator, she had watched as corrupt politicians used the information she gathered to silence rivals, destroy lives and careers, and cover up their own nefarious deeds.
Aaron himself had been a tragic victim of those machinations: Senator Clarke had used the GitHub information Natasha had acquired to farm moral outrage over a piece of fiction, and Aaron had been expelled from St. Ignatius Academy and disowned by his family.
Yet, here he was, forging his own path, building a company that had again attracted the ire of the same corrupt politicians and oligarchs that had ruined his life. And yet again, she was being sent to gather information that they would use to destroy him.
Guilt threatened to eat her alive. It was one thing to be a regular security guard and just passively gather information. That kind of role she was able to rationalize that whatever ramifications her information gathering had, it was not her fault or responsibility.
Information by itself doesn't do squat until somebody uses it.
This was different. Aaron wanted her to be his personal bodyguard, run interference against honey-traps and gold-diggers, and be his head of security - meaning she would be responsible for training and vetting whoever else he hired as security or even as normal employees.
More than that, she would be close to Aaron, and would be privy to his plans and ideas. She would be responsible for protecting him from the very people she had been sent to spy on.
Could she still continue her mission knowing that she was betraying his trust in her?
He wasn't some Middle-Eastern warlord with a harem and an oil well.
He was a barely-legal kid who had clawed his way out of cancel-culture hell, and was trying to build something of his own.
What would happen if he finds out the brutal truth of who had hacked his GitHub account four years ago?
What would he do if he found out that she was here to spy on him?
Her CIA training kicked in, and she forced herself to calm down.
"What do I want?" she thought to herself.
Her confusion was replaced with a single burst of clarity as the memory of Aaron's 13-year-old self flashed in her mind.
"That's right. Monica Goldberg can go to hell. I want what Aaron's offering. And if worse comes to worst, I can make peace with the fact that I'm doing the right thing this time around" she thought to herself, as she straightened her back, dried her tears, and buzzed the intercom.
"Mr. Zakhrov, I have made my decision. Permission to report for duty." she said, her voice steady and firm.