"Excellent Dr. Khan, you've made great progress," said Dr. Petrov looking over Kavitha's journal entries.

"Thank you, Dr. Petrov. I feel like I'm finally getting a handle on my urges," said Kavitha, sitting opposite, her black leather Sirius Software Security/Medic uniform gleaming under the office lights.

"So, anything else you want to talk about?" asked Dr. Petrov.

"Well, there is one thing. The boss-man installed these fancy new doors, I'm under an NDA, so I can't say much more about them except that they are extremely creepy, but I'm not feeling the kind of discomfort that they are supposed to bring out," said Kavitha.

"How so?" asked Dr. Petrov.

"OK. Basically, they're a blatant violation of privacy and body autonomy, but I'm still rocking the uniform, and haven't told the boss to stuff it," said Kavitha.

"Interesting, so you're normalizing his authoritarianism?" asked Dr. Petrov.

"But why? That is the question!" said Kavitha, looking puzzled.

"Well, given how you've described the environment, I'm guessing that it's because staying is worth the trade-off. It's the same reason why people stay in authoritarian regimes. Human rights are only enforced and upheld when people give a shit about them," said Dr. Petrov.

"I see. Well, anyway. Thank you, Doctor. If I feel I need more sessions, I'll make an appointment," said Kavitha, and she left the office.

Tatiana sighed wearily after Kavitha had left.

There had been a sharp rise in female patients. They were mostly professionals in the service and hospitality sectors, but their symptoms were similar to Kavitha's - a psychotic episode triggered by wearing their attire or uniforms.

The fact that they all mentioned that their employers had brought in a new uniform or apparel supplier, and that the new stuff had the same engineered quality as The Feminine Professional's retail lineup, meant that Sirius Software was the cause of these psychotic breaks.

"What is with those clothes that make all these women get these weird responses?" thought Tatiana.

On the surface, they were just blazers, skirts, heels and pantyhose.

Clothing that was familiar and while becoming rarer in the current environment of business casual, was still nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet, the deluge of patients who had come in over the last few weeks, all experiencing the gamut of symptoms from sexual fetish development to PTSD-like panic attacks, meant that there was something about these clothes that was different.

"Perhaps I should observe the beast that is Sirius Software," mused Tatiana, as she locked up her office.

----

"Please tell me that the IRS was able to audit that asshole into oblivion," snarled Monica, as she stormed into the war room of the shadowy nexus that she was part of.

"Aaron Zakhrov isn't like Al Capone. The damn kid has been paying all his taxes. And before you ask, no, we can't just slap him with a massive tax bill. He's locked all of his accounts behind offshore banks, who want a full forensic audit before they decide that he's committing tax evasion," grumbled Daniel.

"There is one bright spot though. We've managed to get one of our men into Sirius Nuclear. An Aditya Thakur," said Elijah.

"And?" asked Monica.

"And nothing. He's in deep cover. Once he gets clearance to the nuclear safety systems, we can blow up Sirius Software, and get everyone to fully embrace our agenda," said Elijah.

"I don't like playing the long game. But fine, let's see how this plays out," sighed Monica, leaving the war room.

----

"Everyone, welcome our new CFO Vikram Singh," announced Aaron, to the assembled team in the conference room.

The tall Indian man bowed slightly, as Harry, James, Margaret, Olga, Natasha, Kavitha and Andre applauded politely.

Kavitha in particular, was staring at him with wide eyes.

Her heart did a few somersaults, as she took in his tall, lean frame, his sharp features, and his warm brown eyes.

"I thank you all for your warm welcome. Frankly, I thought I would spend my career as a lowly bean-counter, so I'm truly honored and grateful for this opportunity," said Vikram.

His smooth, deep voice and Rajasthan accent sent shivers down Kavitha's spine.

"All right, introductions all around," said Aaron.

"I'm Harry Smith, head of Sirius Construction," said Harry.

"I'm James McMillan, head of Sirius Energy," said James.

"I'm Margaret Smith, Harry's wife and head of The Feminine Professional, the official apparel supplier for Sirius Software," said Margaret, puffing out her chest slightly.

"I'm Natasha Parker, head of security for all of Sirius Software and its subsidiaries," said Natasha.

"And you already know me," chuckled Andre, who had indeed head-hunted Vikram once the IRS investigation had started.

"I'm Dr. Kavitha Khan, in-house physician and head of medical services," said Kavitha, before she blushed and switched to Rajasthani saying: "Welcome aboard Mr. Vikram Singh,"

"Thank you, but let's stick to English. It's not polite to switch like that," said Vikram, making Kavitha blush harder.

"All right, now that the formalities are out of the way, let's get down to business. Vikram, how are our numbers looking?" asked Aaron.

"We're pulling in $4 trillion in revenue, with a net profit of $3.2 trillion. The biggest earners are the Sirius Nuclear power plants in Libya, with our home office reactors coming in second. Sirius Energy, telecom and construction are all profitable, but not as big as nuclear. Meanwhile, The Feminine Professional has broken even, thanks to the new uniform and apparel contracts we've signed with various hospitality and service sector companies," said Vikram.

"Excellent. How about the redevelopment efforts?" asked Aaron.

"Infrastructure wise, we're on track. Our loyal districts now have upgraded power grids, and gigabit internet networks. Local retail stores are now carrying The Feminine Professional apparel, but Boston PD is still in Monica's grasp," said Harry.

"All right, get Michael on the horn. We need to get at least the precincts in our loyal districts to switch sides," said Aaron, adjourning the meeting.

----

Ivan let out an impressed whistle as he surveyed the Albrecht Automotive Streikkämpfer nestled in the Sirius Software underground garage.

The car was massive at 5 meters long, 2 meters wide, and 1.2 m tall, giving it a low and wide stance.

It was composed almost entirely of flat surfaces and sharp angles, giving it an old-school aggressive look.

Six exhaust pipes jutted out of the rear in a single row, making the car's rear look like that of a jet fighter.

Ivan half wondered if they would actually spit fire.

It was a glossy jet-black, with dark tinted windows, and had a long hood, and a massive rear wing.

The wheels were classic 5-spoke alloys, with a center-locking hub, and backed by massive carbon-ceramic brakes.

Aaron pressed a button on the key fob, and the car's scissor doors hissed open.

"Care to take it for a spin?" he asked Ivan.

"It's been a minute since I've driven a manual," said Ivan, tentatively pressing the clutch pedal.

"Relax, it's got paddle shifters so you shouldn't have too much of a learning curve," said Aaron, as he got into the passenger seat.

Ivan started the car, and its 7.2-liter V12 engine rumbled to life.

He clicked the left shift paddle, and the car responded with a satisfying clack as it slipped into first gear.

He eased the clutch out, and the car smoothly rolled forward.

"Whoa, that is some serious feedback," said Ivan, as he steered the car towards the garage exit.

"Hydraulic power steering, with an electric pump. Pure mechanical feel," chuckled Aaron, activating the garage doors.

Ivan carefully guided the car out of the garage, and onto the street.

"All right, let's see what this beast can do," he said, giving it more gas.

The car surged forward, its V12 engine growling like an impatient beast, as Ivan shifted into second gear.

"Lord have mercy!" he exclaimed, as the car sent it 800 kilowatts of power to the rear wheels, turning the scenery outside into a blur.

"Careful, you're nearing the speed limit," cautioned Aaron, and Ivan eased off the gas.

With a petulant rumble, the car slowed down.

"Son, this thing is a beast! I think I'll stick to my M5 for now, a hyper GT is a bit much for me," chuckled Ivan, carefully pulling over so that Aaron could take over.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride back to the house," said Aaron, as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Your mother will have a heart attack if she sees me stepping out of this thing," said Ivan.

"That's the idea," said Aaron with a smirk.

"All right, let's go," said Ivan, getting into the passenger seat.

----

The growl of the Streikkampfer's V12 engine echoed through the quiet streets of Pine Springs, as Aaron expertly navigated the car through the suburban neighborhood.

They stopped at the driveway of a modernist two-story house, built out of glass, steel and concrete, a white Hyundai Ioniq 5 parked in the driveway.

"See you tomorrow, son," said Ivan, as he got out of the car.

"See you, Dad," said Aaron, as he drove off.

"Ivan Zakhrov, who was that, and what the hell was that car?" asked Annette, coming out of the house.

"That was my new employer giving me a ride home," said Ivan innocently.

"I see, well would you politely tell him that he and his car are not welcome in this neighborhood," said Annette, her eyes narrowing.

"And why not?" asked Ivan, knowing the answer already.

"Because, Ivan, that car is a gas-guzzling, polluting dinosaur! This neighborhood is a no-emissions zone, which includes sound by the way, and because this house has zero tolerance for toxic masculinity!" screamed Annette, seizing Ivan by the collar.

"All right, all right! Relax! It was a one time thing!" said Ivan, trying to calm her down.

"It better be, Ivan Zakhrov, or you will never see Mikaela again!" snarled Annette, stalking back into the house.