Legolas stood, his movements as graceful and fluid as a forest stream. "Thank you, my fellow brothers," he said, his voice a smooth, melodic tenor. The others nodded in acknowledgment.
"First and most importantly," he continued, "I need to get out of here."
The others shifted in their seats, their attention sharpening. Legolas elaborated further. "My chosen path requires me to be at the heart of the fashion and luxury goods industry. With all due respect to our current home, this naval duchy cannot truly support that ambition."
"Whoa, whoa," Erwin said, holding up a hand. "You still need time. The Silent Night will come in five days. I don't think it's wise for anyone to be traveling outside the city barriers right now, especially when it's this close."
"Which god is prophesied to attack this time?" Legolas asked.
"Information from Duke Orion's court suggests that this Silent Night may be a continental-level event," Sebas interjected, his voice grim. "It would indeed be wise not to go out."
Soma frowned. "Is that credible intel?"
"It comes from several of my bugs placed among the nobility in Evercrest," Sebas confirmed. "And they all say the same thing. The entire kingdom is on edge."
"Okay," Zero said, his voice taking on the tone of a final authority. "We will facilitate your departure, Legolas. But I cannot let you go until you are ready."
"I do know how business works," Legolas countered.
"I'm sure you do," Zero said. "But it's not enough. You will stay here for two to three months, until I say you are ready."
"But Zero, I need to–"
"Just do what I say," Zero said, not letting him finish. "You also need to expand your fashion knowledge. Gojo Wakana's skill base is in crafting Hina doll clothes. You need to adjust that yourself. To design for the human form is an entirely different stage. I can't let my clones go out into the world unprepared."
Erwin chimed in, his voice calm and supportive. "He's right, Legolas. It would be ideal for you to have this time. Don't get caught up in the tempo of what the rest of us are doing. We each have our own path, and our own timeline."
Legolas paused, taking in their collective counsel. "Understood," he said finally, a graceful nod of acceptance. "Then I will require more books to fill my time."
Erwin smiled. He snapped his fingers. In an instant, several towering rows of bookshelves shimmered into existence, lining the walls of their section of the Hub. "There," he said. "It's all the books I've read from the Evercrest Royal Library, about three-quarters of their entire collection. You can find almost anything you need in there."
Legolas looked at the massive, manifested library in awe. "Is the content... accurate?"
"Don't underestimate my Conan brain," Erwin said with a smirk. "I even corrected some of their historical and scientific texts with our modern knowledge to be better."
"Good," Zero said, satisfied. "So Legolas stays for now."
"I will begin preparing the logistical requirements for your eventual departure," Sebas added. "A rune-car and several thousand Sols should suffice as a starting fund."
"Just observe things in this duchy first," Erwin advised. "Who knows where inspiration might come from."
Legolas gracefully sat back down. "Alright. Thank you."
Zero stood, drawing the meeting to a close. His voice resonated with a quiet power in the Hub.
"Look at us," he began, his gaze sweeping over his four brothers. "A few months ago, I was alone. Now, we are five. Erwin is reforming the Watchers from within. Sebas is consolidating the underworld. Soma has given us a home and a source of power. And Legolas is preparing to build our legitimate face to the world. We have a plan. We have a purpose."
He took a breath. "The world is dangerous. A continental Silent Night is coming. But we are stronger together than we ever were apart. We are the Animus Council. We are one mind, one will." He smiled. "Let's get to work."
One by one, their forms dissolved, leaving the Animus Hub. All except for one. Legolas was left alone in the vast, silent space. He stood, walked over to one of the towering bookshelves, pulled out a thick volume on the history of textile manufacturing, and began to read.
…
Sebas's consciousness returned to the real world. He opened his eyes to find Misela still curled around him on the couch, her head resting on his chest. He gently extricated himself.
"Misela," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Ready the double-prong plan."
She stopped, her playful demeanor vanishing in an instant, replaced by the sharp focus of a loyal lieutenant. "Right now, Master?"
"It is our opportunity," Sebas said, walking over to the large, detailed map of the city's criminal territories that hung on his wall. "I have just realized we have a perfect stage waiting for us."
Misela stood and gave a deep, respectful bow. "Yes, Master." She then left the room without another word, her movements swift and purposeful.
Sebas stared at the map. He picked up a red marker and drew a decisive 'X' through the territories of two other major gangs: The Crimson Vultures and The Honey Badger Syndicate. He was so confident in his plan that he already considered them dealt with. It would be a fine gift for Erwin when his time in field training began.
…
Two days later, Misela sat face-to-face with Guilon, the boss of The Cardinal Wolves, in one of the Pavilion's most exclusive suites. Several of his lieutenants stood behind him as bodyguards. Misela, acting her part, took a slow, elegant drag from her long smoke holder.
Guilon took a sip of the tea a courtesan had poured for him. "The rumor that the Hao Pavilion has the best tea in the city seems to be true," he rumbled, his eyes fixed on her.
Misela exhaled a perfect smoke ring. "Fufufu," she purred. "Is it the tea you find so pleasing, Guilon? Or my presence?"
Sebas, standing behind her chair like a silent, loyal advisor, simply observed.
"Leave us alone," Guilon grunted to his men. His lieutenants, after a moment's hesitation, bowed and retreated to a lower floor. Guilon then looked at Misela's entourage. "Shouldn't you do the same, as a courtesy?"
Misela shooed away Amanzio and the courtesans with a wave of her hand.
"And your advisor?" Guilon pressed, his eyes on the veiled man.
"No," Misela said firmly. "He stays. How do you think I got to where I am? Do you think I have the muscle to bend a man like Amanzio to my will?" She gestured to Sebas. "I have the brains because I have his."
Guilon just nodded, accepting the half-truth. "Alright. Let's get to the point. What kind of charade are you playing?"
"Whatever do you mean, Guilon?" Misela asked, a picture of innocence.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "I've been preparing to take Amanzio's territory for months, and suddenly, you appear out of nowhere and sweep it all up."
Misela chuckled. "Fufufu, you are one paranoid man, Guilon. My presence is merely fate taking its rightful place."
SLAM!
Guilon slammed his meaty fist on the table. "Bullshit, you wench! Tell me the truth! Why did you give me those two Watcher officers?"
Misela performed her part perfectly. She flinched, a look of genuine shock on her face, which she then tried and 'failed' to hide. Guilon saw the flicker of confusion and fear in her eyes. She cleared her throat. "It was... a gift," she stammered. "A gesture of cooperation for our future partnership... in the spice trade."
Guilon's mind raced. 'Her reaction... she didn't know about it. So the deal with the cops wasn't her direct order. It must have been a lower-level play.' He felt a surge of confidence. 'Damn, I've been careless. She doesn't have as tight a reign on her people as I thought. And my man Difos has already made contact with them.' He felt he now had an advantage, a crack in her armor.
He straightened his suit and stood. "I will think about your offer," he said, his tone now condescending. As he walked past her, Misela spoke, her voice regaining some of its sultry confidence.
"A word of advice, Guilon," she said. "Don't involve yourself with the Badgers and the Vultures. There's a war coming. It's a spectacle to be enjoyed, not participated in."
She then turned and left, leaving him to ponder her words.
Guilon walked away. As he passed the sullen, defeated-looking Amanzio on a lower floor, he discreetly passed him a small, folded note, then left the Hao Pavilion with his men.
Amanzio waited until they were gone, then opened the note. It was a location and a time. A cooperation offer. He looked at it for a moment, then walked to a nearby decorative brazier and tossed it into the flames.
…
Back on the 31st floor, Amanzio re-entered the office. "They took the bait," he confirmed.
"Of course they did," Misela said, tossing her hair smugly. "I'm a good actress, after all."
Sebas, who had been observing the city from his window, turned to face Amanzio. "When you meet with him, you will mention the 'double-prong plan'. Let it slip. It will give your words the weight of an insider's knowledge and increase your value to him."
Amanzio bowed, a new, steely resolve in his eyes. "Yes, boss. See you on the other side." He then left to attend the clandestine meeting.
Misela watched him go. "Do you think he's trustworthy enough to be a double agent like this?" she asked Sebas.
A serene smile was hidden beneath Sebas's veil. "I have already put the fear of the gods inside that man," he said. "It has quite effectively filled the space where his traitorous side used to be."
Misela's own smile turned predatory. "It does feel good," she purred, "to wreak havoc on three fronts at once."
"We already have our sights set on the world," Sebas replied, turning back to the window. "It is their fault for not seeing us as an enemy." He raised a glass.
"To the world," they said in unison.
…
Amanzio played his part to perfection. He arrived at the designated location, a high-end tailor shop that served as one of Guilon's fronts, acting listless and lifeless. He let the TCW lieutenant, Difos, shove him roughly out of the rune-car. 'A power play, huh?' he thought to himself. 'Alright. Let's dance.'
He let them lead him into a back room where Guilon was waiting. The TCW boss immediately put on a show of magnanimous hospitality.
"Hey, hey! Let my friend sit!" Guilon boomed, pushing his own men aside. "Come, come, Amanzio. Sit here." He patted the dust off Amanzio's coat and led him to a comfortable sofa, pouring him a generous glass of expensive whiskey. "Thank you for coming all this way, my friend."
Amanzio stared blankly into the glass. "Why do you keep calling me your friend?"
"An enemy of my enemy is my friend," Guilon said with a toast.
Amanzio still didn't drink. "I'm not an enemy of anyone," he said, his voice a hollow monotone. "Not anymore."
Guilon sighed dramatically. "What happened to you, man? You used to be so passionate, so full of vigor. Remember that time you almost put a bullet in my head over the dock-workers' union? Ahahahaha!"
Amanzio remained unresponsive, his face a mask of dead-eyed apathy.
"What happened?" Guilon pressed, his voice now a concerned whisper. "Tell me. What do they have on you that could break a man like this?"
Amanzio finally put his glass down, lowered his head, and covered his face with his hands. "I don't... I can't," he choked out, his voice trembling. "I can't say."
This only made Guilon more intrigued. "What happened? Those two Watcher officers... they were yours, weren't they?"
Amanzio's head snapped up, a flicker of something, relief? hope? in his eyes. "So, they made it to you? Good. At least that advisor bastard didn't have his eyes on the Watchers. If he knew, he would have burned the whole kingdom down to cover his tracks."
Guilon's mind latched onto the key words. Advisor bastard. So, it was the veiled man pulling the strings.
"What is it, Amanzio? What did they do?" Guilon pressed, leaning in. But Amanzio clammed up again, shaking his head in fear.
Guilon changed tactics. "The woman... Misela... she told me to stay away from the Badgers and the Vultures. From what I know, the Honey Badgers and the Crimson Vultures are in talks to form an alliance. What makes her so confident to warn me away?"
Amanzio's act was flawless. A look of pure, unadulterated shock and terror washed over his face. He began to stammer, his eyes wide. "Sh-she told you that? The... the plan... she told you?" He looked around the room as if the walls had ears. "Then it's already too late."
…
Several blocks over, Officer Valdi and his partner responded to a call. A report of "suspicious sounds" inside an abandoned warehouse on the riverfront.
"It's probably just kids pranking us," Valdi said with a sigh, pulling the rune-car to a stop. He grabbed his heavy-duty runic flashlight and stepped out. "Stay here, I'll check it out."
He pushed open the massive, groaning metal door and stepped into the cavernous, dark space. The beam of his flashlight cut through the gloom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the stale air. He did a slow, methodical sweep of the ground floor, combing around rusted machinery and stacks of old crates. Finding nothing, he pointed the beam upwards, towards the high ceilings and catwalks.
His partner, who had disobeyed his order and followed him in, froze in shock.
Valdi's own eyes followed the beam up, and his blood ran cold. He stopped, his dismissive attitude completely gone, replaced by the grim focus of a seasoned officer. He reached for the crystal radio on his shoulder.
"Dispatch, 12-Adam-45," he said, his voice steady despite the horror of the scene. "Be advised, I have a 187 in progress. Warehouse at 1500 Riverfront Drive. Male victim, DOA, suspended from a ceiling hook. Requesting RHD Homicide, SID, and the coroner. Over."
The radio crackled back. "Copy, 12-Adam-45. 187 DOA, warehouse at 1500 Riverfront Drive. RHD, SID, and coroner notified. Hold the scene, Code 4. Over."
"12-Adam-45, 10-4," Valdi replied. "Holding the scene. Out."
He lowered the radio, the professional mask momentarily slipping as he took in the full sight. The bloodied, brutalized body hanging from a meat hook in the center of the warehouse made his stomach churn.
…
Forty-five minutes later, the warehouse was a whirlwind of activity. Detectives Celvise and Morhan arrived to find Wolfe already on scene, inspecting the body which had since been lowered onto a gurney by the coroner's team.
Wolfe saw them and walked over, his face a grim mask. "It's one of the Honey Badger's top lieutenants," he said without preamble. "So, what do you think of the M.O.?"
Celvise and Morhan looked at each other, the same thought passing between them. "It's The Crimson Vultures," Celvise said. "The brutality, the hook, the public display... it's their signature."
"Or a CV-inspired copycat," Morhan added.
"It's strange, though," Celvise mused. "The word on the street was that the Badgers and the Vultures were about to form an alliance."
Wolfe let out a dry, humorless snort. "They've been fighting over this territory since before you were born," he grunted. "An alliance between them was never going to happen."
"We're short-handed as it is," Morhan said, sighing as she looked at the barely-there perimeter of officers. "The last thing this city needs is a full-blown gang war when we can barely secure a single crime scene."
"This is likely the beginning of one," Celvise said grimly.
Wolfe's jaw tightened. "Well," he said, his voice a low growl, "maybe we should pay a visit to both sides. Press upon them just how bad it would be if they were to take this any further."
Morhan sighed. "It might slow them down, but they're not going to listen to us."
"It's not going to stop them," Celvise agreed, a cynical but resolute look on her face. "But it's worth a try."
Breakdown of Terms Used:
187 = Penal Code for homicide. often calls a body in this way instead of saying "dead body."
DOA = Dead On Arrival.
RHD = Robbery-Homicide Division.
SID = Scientific Investigation Division.
Code 4 = No further assistance needed at this time, scene secure.
M.O = Modus operandi mean mode of operating.
*A/N*
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*A/N*