The Quaranteam Universe is the creation of CorruptingPower, used with permission. Also a big shout out to the RAPIDLY expanding Quaranteam Universe! You should check them out if you get the chance.
—-
Chapter 6: Debate
8 August 2020
Shocked, Adam and Shannon looked out of their bedroom door, towards the front of the apartment. The knock came again, and Adam found his body moving. No time to clean up properly, he started pulling on underwear and a pair of pajamas that would be at least somewhat presentable. "I'm coming! One sec!" As he got to the bedroom door, he looked back at the still-dazed Shannon. "Take your time. I'll talk to the Oracle people."
She nodded but was silent. Stumbling and cursing slightly, yet rather thankful that they hadn't come five minutes earlier, Adam made his way to the front door. He barely remembered to grab a spare mask before looking through the peephole. Standing outside were at least two people. Hard to tell from that point of view, though the distinct shape of HAZMAT gear was visible... as was a shock of bright red hair not covered by that gear. His heart rate had been coming down slightly from the immediate post-orgasmic haze, but Adam now felt it picking back up. He opened the door.
It turned out there were two people in HAZMAT behind door number one, both in the camouflage colors that the Army had been using, and both carrying rank insignia that Adam recognized as being very junior soldiers. Not much to go on for what was under the protective gear, other than the fact that they were both fairly tall. To the left, a name tape that read "Evans." To the right, "Nichols." The masks were heavily used, but the filters on them were shiny, without nearly the dust and grime the rest of the mask had picked up. It was like they had been swapped out very recently. Standing between them was, presumably, the woman they were here to deliver.
And, she was certainly something. Taller than Adam by perhaps an inch, she was probably at least twice as wide and rather bottom-heavy. She was stuffing a long-sleeved shirt quite full, with pants and a cloth mask providing some extra safety. Pale and acne-scarred skin was visible around her neck and face. Her hair was bright enough red to look like her head was on fire, pulled back into a straight and slightly greasy ponytail, her green eyes very slightly bulging. Beside her was a wheeled suitcase, plain black but locked.
Adam looked between them for a second or two. "I'd ask if I could help you, but I think I know what's up. Come in, come in!"
The one on the left... Evans... shook her head. "Can't take that much time, sir, and in any case being in your place isn't all that comfy if I can't take my gear off. And I can't. Specialist Nichols, you have the forms, right?"
The other one unslung a backpack Adam had previously failed to notice, kneeled down, and started digging through it. Remarkable how well camouflage patterns work when placed on a background of the same exact camouflage pattern. While she was digging, Adam turned to the third woman. "I assume you're coming to join my Team?" She nodded. "I'm Adam Jeffries, happy to meet you."
The large woman raised one eyebrow. "They didn't even tell you my name?" Her voice was smooth and at odds with the rest of her, slightly higher than her size would have led one to expect, and carrying with it an odd blend of accents Adam couldn't quite place. "You can call me Callie."
"They didn't even call ahead to warn me you were coming. Granted, it's not like I could be at a Seahawks game or anything, but still."
Her eyebrows furrowed thunderously. "You two didn't even tell him he had a new permanent addition to his household on the way?"
Specialist Nichols stood from the ground, holding two manilla folders. "We didn't even know we were going to be on this detail until two hours ago, ma'am." She opened one of them up, folded it over, and handed it to Callie along with a pen. "Please sign here, center block."
Callie took the folder and pen, but did not sign immediately. Instead, her eyes roamed over the sheet. "Dated August 2020? New revision?"
"Yes, ma'am, we just got these yesterday. Included an NDA segment boilerplate up top."
Callie nodded and went back to looking over the document. After a few moments she seemed satisfied, leaning the folder against a wall for leverage before writing something into the block Nichols had told her about. She handed it over to Adam, who glanced over it as well. Ah, yes, the DA 6969-R. Same as with Shannon... other than the extra information block at the top. "Calliope Ekecheiria? Greek?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a half-screaming sound from inside the apartment. If Adam hadn't been quite so familiar with it, he'd have been concerned. Instead, he got to idly wonder how Shannon was having an especially intense orgasm when he wasn't there to assist with it. Callie's mouth snapped shut as she seemed to figure out what the sound was... but not how it could possibly have happened.
It was harder to see their faces, but by body language both of the escorts also shared in this thought process. Adam took the chance to look down at the signature blocks. Once again, two of three complete. Callie was one, Specialist Nichols of the National Guard. He saw an opportunity to distract them from Shannon's sudden outburst, though. "Nichols? One question. I'm not sure, but I don't think the abbreviation of the Washington Army National Guard is supposed to be WANG."
They went from shock to laughter in half of a heartbeat. "Oh, I would apologize for that one, but I'm not sorry. Ah, I needed that. Two Nasty Girls of the WANG, here to help!"
Evans, the other soldier, proved that certain things were universal. Despite shaking with laughter, her rubber-gloved hand came to her mask-clad forehead in a combination of frustration and incredulity. "It won't affect things. We care a lot more about your block and your new teammate."
"I won't keep you, then." Adam wrote his own information down in his own block and handed it back... or tried to. Callie intercepted it as the soldiers tried to grab the folder, holding it in front of her for one last look before pulling out her phone and snapping pictures of it.
"There we go. Now it's preserved on our side." She handed the folder back, they shoved it in the backpack, and the troops left. Some seconds later, Callie turned back to Adam. "Mind if I come in? You already signed the paper and everything."
"Sure, sure. Welcome to my home. Not much of a home, and we have a lot to figure out, but it works. Take a seat."
"It'll keep the rain out, I guess." Callie closed the door on the way in. "And to answer your question from earlier, Dad's Greek. He named me to honor the muse and mother of Orpheus. Mom's Irish. When she woke up and found out what he'd named me, she got up out of her recovery bed and punched him across the jaw. Mind if I drop a layer or two? Kind of hot to be bundled up." Without waiting for a response, she removed her mask and started peeling off the long-sleeved shirt.
Adam, thankfully, was in the middle of saying yes when she did so. The doughy flesh of her arms and shoulders that emerged were painfully pale and pockmarked with signs of old acne, her camisole undershirt straining to contain her belly. Her breath came a bit hard at the end of it, reminding Adam heavily of when he got out of his recent hospital stay. She didn't seem lazy or indulgent. Something was keeping her away from her health. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, thanks for asking. Bunch of things not quite right in my body, but I had pneumonia as a kid and Covid three months ago, so my lungs like me about as much as the paralegals I worked with. Mind if I flop on the big chair?"
"Go right ahead, I bought it to sit on after all. You do legal work?"
Callie smirked a bit as she took her seat. "You could say that. I'm a lawyer, public defender for the State of Washington. Pay might not be too great, but man does it feel good when..." As it turns out, Adam was not the only one subject to being interrupted by doors.