*Sssk!*
An elevator slid open and a solemn woman in a grey suit strode out, flanked by scientists in lab coats.
They walked with purpose down the immaculate white halls toward a wide door at the end. Emblazoned on it was a golden symbol: a crown held aloft by two small, child-like hands.
As they approached, the doors slid open automatically to reveal an office of stark, effulgent white.
The very walls and floor seemed to emit a soft, sterile glow. And the room was dominated by a wide, centrally placed table with curved edges. The high-backed chair behind it was turned away, its mysterious occupant looking out the floor-to-ceiling window that offered a panoramic view of the glittering city below.
The woman came to a crisp stop, her expression stern.
"Sir, I have been informed that you rewarded a certain… hoodlum," her face twitched with barely concealed disdain, "one Festus, with a special-grade evolution elixir."
She let out a sharp huff, folding her arms over the files she clutched.
"I believe the company's shareholders should be alerted before such crass decisions are enacted."
The high-backed chair shifted slightly, and a terse silence settled before a calm, thoughtful male voice drifted from its occupant.
"The shareholders need not know how I secure the company interests."
The woman stepped forward, and planted her hands on the cool surface of the table, expression difficult.
"How does handing a criminal a multi-million dollar elixir—a prototype with the potential to create a literal superhuman, secure the company's interest?!" she pressed, her composure fraying at the edges.
The chair shifted slightly and the voice sagely explained.
"...The GBGs have broken the Corvinus Accord. Did you know that? They have set foot in this city after a decade of peace."
Her expression tightened, and a shadow passed behind her eyes. Her arms soon began trembling with suppressed rage.
Met with only silence, the man continued.
"I had to send a message that they are not welcome here, and the Beach Boys stood up to the task, superbly dispatching Mr. Breaker, a cardinal enforcer of the GBGs... I am certain Don Matteo Ricci received the message."
She gritted her teeth, then scoffed, looking away.
"It will not be enough—"
Suddenly, a realization clicked into place, and she turned back to the chair, her eyes wide.
"You want the GBGs to retaliate. So you've empowered Festus to be your weapon, to let them tear each other apart for us."
The man let out a soft, thoughtful hum.
"Partly..." He sighed, a sound of weary concession.
"The elixir is not as potent as we've advertised to our sponsors. I led its incubation; I would know. We lack the resources for full-scale trials. It is still, functionally, a prototype. Think of this as a field test. Perhaps the stress of the GBGs' vengeance will force a miracle, a breakthrough that could advance our research by years."
Hearing this, she bit her lip, contemplating the cold logic. Then gave a slow, reluctant nod.
"This... could indeed benefit the company. I know the GBGs won't stand for our research here. But was that your only reason for deploying one of our most valuable asset?"
The man waved a tired hand.
"It wasn't exactly given,per se. He will have to work for it..." He paused for a moment, then added, "There is also another issue. The animal infestation at the docks. Perhaps this—empowerment, will finally allow Festus to rid us of his canine overlords, who are so disruptively meddling with our international supply flow."
The woman's eyes twitched, a clear sign she knew exactly what—or who—he referred to.
However, she steered the conversation back.
"The GBGs will not be deterred by the Beach Boys alone."
"Oh, do not fret," he said, a smile entering his tone.
"The Beach Boys are merely the first of many blows. But rest assured, the GBGs will eventually be dealt with."
At his assurance, she let out a long sigh, the tension finally leaving her shoulders.
At this moment, he cleared his throat, his tone shifting to one of finality.
"Now that this matter seems resolved, send the scientists away. I require some... entertainment."
A knowing look immediately flashed in her eyes, and she turned.
"Leave us."
The scientists filed out without a word, and the door hissed shut.
Silence settled in the sterile room. Then slowly, deliberately, she removed her glasses and placed them on the table.
Soon, with light steps, she catwalked around its edge, steadily unbuttoning her suit jacket, and finally coming to a slow stop to settle onto his lap.
The glittering night city painted a breathtaking backdrop for them.
—❦—
The Docks... Mermaid Bar.
"Luck be a lady tonight..."
A female vocalist crooned from the loudspeakers, her voice struggling to be heard over the roar of gangsters yelling, laughing, and exchanging sloshing toasts with pints of beer.
At the head of the festivities sat Festus, enthroned in solitude. Despite the raucous cheer filling the bar, he was thoughtful, dull, and faintly disgruntled.
This gloom had clung to him ever since his confrontation with Ramona, unnerving the few of his men not yet addled by alcohol.
At that moment, he shifted, pulling a crisp envelope from his inside pocket. On its front, an elegant script read:
"Herein lay the map to your reward. A promise fulfilled. Consider this payment for the task accomplished, and goodwill for all further missions we would have you fulfill on our behalf.
— From your esteemed sponsor. Mr. H."
Festus squinted at this, his eyes blazing with raw ambition.
"Boss Festus!"
He jerked at the intrusion, hastily hiding the envelope.
He turned to find that it was one of his trusted captains, Owen. He stood beside him with an easy smile.
"What is it, Owen?" Festus inquired, clearing his throat.
Owen gestured toward a group of gangsters standing below the stage.
"Some of the lads say they've brought a cute girl for your... entertainment."
Festus's eyes widened with intrigue, though a thread of suspicion remained.
"What girl?"
Owen shrugged. "Apparently, her dad owed the Los Cicatrices gang a heavy debt, then he died. So they sold his daughter to us to settle it."
Festus let out a relieved sigh.
"Thank goodness. I feared this birthday would be a damned sausage party. You guys say she's pretty?"
Owen's smile widened with knowing look.
"I've seen her. I think she'll do well for you."
Festus squinted, a hopeful gleam in his eye.
"Can she... dance?"
Owen wasn't sure, so he turned to the men below. They looked at each other, then offered nervous, unanimous nods.
Festus broke into a wide grin and waved them over.
"Well, what are you waiting for?! Bring her to me!"
The men turned and immediately rushed out of the bar.
—❦—
Frusthalia!
Rainer yelled the ancient name into the darkness of his mind, and he felt a profoundly alien yet familiar ache of loss, and grief tigthen his chest.
Suddenly, hands were shaking him, and the blindfold was yanked from his face.
"Rainer! Snap out of it!" Rommel whispered heatedly, kneeling over him.
Rainer's eyes popped open, and at once, twin tracks of tears rolled down his face, glistening like a lost memories to the wind.