"Around 8 p.m. yesterday at Hexcorp HQ," Maya reported, standing solemnly in front of the burnt building. "There was an altercation..."
Jaiden grabbed a glass, clinking against the wooden desk. He tugged off the cork with great effort.
"...Three mysterious women, names unknown, fought well known assassins in the Criminal Underworld, Chen Qiu Yue and Huang Yongqiang."
Jaiden poured the swirling wine into the glass.
"Then there was a massive explosion, followed by a secondary explosion, likely caused by hidden grenades. Police are not certain."
He raised it to his lips, taking a huge gulp.
"The only question is...where is Jaiden Maximoff?" Maya said on the screen.
Jaiden slammed the glass down.
"He was last seen with socialite, Cornelia De France," she continued. "Who hasn't seen him since the incident."
"Oh God..." Cornelia wept on the television. She wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief. She wore a pink peplum dress, paired with brown pantyhose and black heels.
"If he's dead. I don't know what I'll do," she cried, breaking down on camera.
Jaiden coldly watched, pouring another glass.
"Special Agent Bowman made a statement earlier today," Maya said. "She argued that Jaiden's death is unlikely. He's faked it before."
"Jaiden's remains were not discovered," Bowman said as Jaiden poured another glass. "However, the likelihood he surveyed is low."
"So the verdict is out," Maya continued. "Whether the beloved billionaire and recluse is truly dead."
The TV screen turned black.
Jaiden shoved the remote in the shelf. He sank into his chair sighing.
He needed something stronger. Like Scotch.
Yes. He need Scotch.
_________
The girls longed in the sunken living room: Jada on the left couch, Ciema with her. Laila on the right side.
It was morning, though the clouds were overcast. The girls were dressed in oversized shirts, only Laila wore shorts.
Jada looked between Ciema and Laila. Laila clicked her tongue, annoyed. Ciema let out a sigh.
Laila shot to her feet.
"This is bullshit!" She snapped. "He's mad at us for saving him? What's wrong with him?"
"He has every right to," Ciema answered softly. "We failed our mission."
"We failed my ass!" Laila argued. "What's the point of apprehending Aleen if he's dead? What were we gonna do with her? Feed her to his Cane Corsos? Torture her with Chi Chi? Belittle her with T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.?"
Ciema bowed her head.
"It's my fault," Jada spoke. "I shouldn't have knocked him out."
"Shut up, Jada!" Laila yelled. "You had every goddamn right to do what you did. Don't let Ciema's or his bullshit tell you otherwise."
Jada fell quiet. She simply nodded.
"Is this your only emotion?" Ciema snapped, standing to her feet. "The only way to express displeasure or frustration is needless anger? What got you so uptight now?"
"The fact that we're being punished for doing something good," Laila yelled. Ciema's gaze remained on her.
Laila took a breath, blinking back tears.
"I feel like shit," she teary-eyed confessed. "That we did the wrong thing. It's my parents all over again. I hate it."
"No. That feeling is mine," Ciema stated. "It was my order to save him. I had no right to make that call."
Laila met her gaze.
"If there's anyone to be blamed," Ciema added. "Or punished. It should be me."
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. zapped into frame, her face solemn. "I heard the mission didn't go so well."
"You heard right," Laila scoffed.
Mr. Mace walked in, carting a tray with blueberry pancakes lathered in syrup.
"Cheer up," Mr. Mace assured them, placing down the plates. "Jaiden can be intense when missions go wrong. Although, he has never been his angry."
"He sent us to bed," Jada shivered. "I didn't even get to see Chi Chi. Are my Chi Chi privileges taken away?"
Ciema sighed, "He acts like we did the wrong thing. Did we, Mr. Mace?"
"In terms of your heart, no," Mr. Mace answered. "In terms of the mission, yes. You did the wrong thing. But there's nothing wrong with that."
Ciema looked up, blinking back tears.
"You only did what was right," he smiled. "And I'm glad."
"He was calm," Laila surmised. "The sight of those bombs didn't faze him."
"Jaiden's not afraid of death," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. cut in. "He always seemed to be at peace with it."
"Is he drinking?" Ciema questioned quietly.
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y.'s silence said all.
Ciema rose to her feet. Her eyebrows creased in worry, determination and anger.
"Ms. Frederick..." Mr. Mace began as Ciema got out. She ignored him, heading for the door.
T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. flinched as the door slammed shut.
"She'll be back," Laila muttered, stabbing her pancake.
______________
Ciema rapped on the door twice. She raised her fist to it again but paused. She pushed on the door. It swung open.
She entered, the scent of alcohol assaults her nose. Bottles strewn about, empty. Items of clothing littered the polished ground.
Ciema spots Jaiden at his desk. His red hair unkempt, his eyes bloodshot. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie loosely hung around his neck.
He lazily poured a glass of Brandy into the glass, ignoring that it overflowed.
Ciema marched over, yanking it out of his hand. He slowly blinked, then glanced up.
"Thea?" Jaiden mumbled.
"It's Ciema, sir," she answered, jaw tight. "You're completely drunk."
An upturned smile graced his face. "Antiope."
"Have you been drinking all night?" She questioned, looking around.
Jaiden joined her, chuckling lightly. "I may have gone overboard."
"My God..." she shook her head. "How are you still functioning?"
"I have a liver of steel!" He laughed, his face red. "Call me Super Jaiden!"
"Last night, at the Gala," she began to pace the room. "Did you have one drink?"
"I had..." Jaiden sluggishly rose up two fingers. He laughed, rocking back and forth.
"Two?" She yelled, hurling the bottle down. It shattered, making Jaiden flinch. His drunken smile didn't fade. "That third glass almost killed you! Aleen is right — alcohol is your vice."
"Aleen is not right!" Jaiden shouted, then laughed again. "If she was, she wouldn't be angry all the time."
"It's time to sober up, Jaiden," Ciema said.
The humor drained from his face. "I will not."
Ciema stepped back. "We were worried about Jaiden."
"Worried?" He scoffed. "The world thinks I'm dead."
"And you broke my heart," he continued coldly. "When you failed to capture Aleen."
"You were going to die," Ciema whispered.
"Then you should've continue the mission," he replied. "To carry on my work—my crusade."
"You're insane," Ciema sneered. "To have no regard for human life, even your own, is insanity."
"I never claimed sanity," Jaiden responded.
"Who's Thea?" Ciema pushed.
"My dead wife," Jaiden answered.
"How did she die?" Ciema demanded.
Jaiden swept the glass of Brandy off his desk. It shattered, spilling its contents on the ground.
"What's the point?" Jaiden snapped. "To remind me of my sin? Am I impure? Are you purer than me?"
"No," Ciema answered flatly. "I am not pure. But you are a secretive man. And I want to know why."
"You will never know," Jaiden replied, a sneer crept across his face. "I will die with the secret. I guard my heart for a reason, as did you. But I will never let you or any Amazon in again."
Ciema approached his desk, resting her palms on it. "I was curious about, we all were. The question on our lips — Where was Jaiden?"
Jaiden smirked, leaning back.
"Our questions grew the more we didn't see you," she scoffed at the memory. "You were Schrodinger's Cat. Here and not here. Were you real? Were you a fabrication? We had not a clue."
Jaiden hummed drunkenly to himself, clearly wrapped up in his thoughts.
He stilled when she added, "Until the day I almost saw you pull the trigger," Ciema added.
He stopped, turning to face her.
"Drunk and apologizing to your dead family," she bowed her head. "I was always curious about you and for the first time, I felt pity."
She stepped back, wiping her eyes. "When we finally met, it was like we got an answer to the riddle. But we were wrong."
Even now," she said quietly. "I wonder 'Where's Jaiden?' The answer is clear—you were never here."
She turned, heading for the door.
Jaiden leaned back as she left. He reached for the drawer where the gun was. He reached past it, fished out a photo.
He gazed at it.
It was woman, kneeling in her garden. Smiling.
He placed it back. The drawer was slammed shut.
___________
Giuseppe Greco sat in his home, flipping through a magazine. A van drove up, parking in front. Bowman stepped out, marching towards his house with purpose.
Zensuke Fushimi, Giuseppe's assistant, approached her, wagging a finger. "Go home, Ms. Bowman. He is not to be disturbed."
Bowman shook off her shades. "Have you forgotten who lent you and your boss this lovely home?"
Fushimi's jaw pulled tight. Bowman pushed past him, walking up the steps.
Entering his room, she pulled a chair. "Mr. Greco?"
"Ms. Bowman," Giuseppe smiled at her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"When we took you into witness protection," Bowman began. "You failed to mention the fact that Ms. Leon had an arsenal of bombs at her disposal."
"Was that mandatory?" He said smugly. "Would you have given me witness protection then?"
Bowman jabbed a finger in his face. "You have royal screwed me over. My superior has chewed out my ass because of you."
"How unfortunate," he chuckled.
"Indeed. One," she rose a finger, "this lack of information has cost me my life-long goal."
"You mean to capture Jaiden?" Mr. Fushimi sneered.
"Yes," Bowman answered. "And two, the biggest case in history was right in front of me and you said nothing. Your silence has cost me big time."
She stood, turning to leave.
"Is Jaiden really dead?" Giuseppe shouted.
Bowman paused, turning around.
"Do you believe he's really dead, Ms. Bowman?" Mr. Fushimi pushed. "He's asked you a question."
She slipped on her shades. "Let's just say it appears so."
_______________
Aleen strolled into the warehouse, confidently smiling.
"I saw the explosion," Mr. Spencer spoke, placing the fuse in the bomb.
"Wasn't it glorious?" Aleen questioned.
Mr. Spencer shook his head. "You wasted three thousand bombs on Jaiden Maximoff?"
"And you will make me twelve thousand more," she demanded.
"Aye, aye," Mr. Spencer replied sarcastically.
"No," she said. "Make an extra three thousand."
"For what?" Mr. Spencer blinked.
"For war," she grinned.
She laughed as she turned. Mr. Spencer sighed, rubbing his forehead.
As she left, her phone buzzed in her purse. She took it out and answered, "Hello?"
"You bitch!" Henry's voice screeched into her ear. "You know how much that building cost?"
"Calm down, Henry," Aleen spoke. "You're over-reacting."
"Over-reacting?" He repeated as she stepped into her limo. "Over-reacting?"
"Yes," she said, fishing her back for her checkbook. "How much you need? Three hundred thousand? Four hundred thousand?"
"Try sixty billion!" He snapped.
Aleen laughed, shaking her pen. "Oh Henry. That building was not worth sixty billion."
"Let's see if your arrest will be," Henry answered.
Her smile faltered. "You wouldn't."
"I'm heading to the FBI's Headquarters this instant," Henry revealed smugly. "And tell them everything. Including the fact you kidnapped my employee, Aaron Spencer."
"You sent Aaron to us," Aleen growled. "I only kept him in custody."
"They don't care about the facts," Henry replied snidely. "Only who's telling them the facts."
"You moron," Aleen hissed. "Giuseppe Greco, that old fool. One of the most notorious mafia bosses and I tried to kill him. He ran to the FBI and even he hasn't ratted me out."
"The point is?" Henry sighed, fiddling with his tie.
"Sleep with your eyes open," she warned.
The line went dead.
Henry shelved his phone as the limo pulled out of the driveway.
__________
Jaiden woke up, groaning. His stomach rumbled. The bile in his throat burned. He scrambled to his feet, running to the door.
Throwing it open, he bent down and vomited into the bowl. He coughed, his hand searching for the handle.
The toilet flushed.
Jaiden washed his face, groaning.
"You were never here," Ciema's words echoed in his mind.
He closed the door behind him. T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. popped in, worried. Her blue screen sweating digital bullets.
"Jaiden," she began. "I was screening calls when I came across one between Aleen Leon and Henry Hexington. Apparently, there's trouble in paradise."
"Do tell," he rubbed his face.
"Henry's going to the FBI to rat on Aleen," she told him.
"And?" Jaiden rose a bored brow.
"Aleen has never been shy to take out liabilities," she added grimly.
"I don't care," Jaiden mumbled, stumbling to his chair.
"What?" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. blinked. "But many people will die. She might bomb the place."
"Not my concern," Jaiden affirmed. "My code is to protect civilians. Those agents aren't civilians."
"But they have families," T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. argued.
"They know what they're getting into," He answered.
"Jaiden!" T.I.F.F.A.N.Y. snapped.
He glanced at her.
"They are not the ones who took her wife," she replied gently.
Jaiden folded his hand, his forehead pressed against them.
He whispered, "Call the Amazons."