XXI

Time seemed to pass as a breath in the week following the assassination assignment given to the Alpha/Omega team. The news of Senator Marciano Nicolleta's murder at the hands of the socialist rebellion from the North swept across all media outlets with such fervor; that it enraged a nation and demonized any sympathetic sentiment to all separatist cause. Protests broke out in the north declaring their innocence in slaying the beloved Senator, as he was one of the few in power who would lend a diplomatic ear to their claim. In the bigger cities, small riots erupted as emotional tensions ran high.

With an impassioned speech, Senator Vittorio Parisi condemned the actions taken in the death of his friend and rival. Vowing to assure that such criminal activity will not go unpunished; Senator Parisi swore to launch a campaign of absolute justice to bring down any element, be it separatist or organized, having any connection to the cowardly murder of a public official. Senator Parisi would gain a great amount of support, and coupled with the sudden absence of a viable opponent, he would rise to the office of Prime Minister.

In an isolated area on Italy's western coastline, a small group of people has gathered to bid a final farewell to a fallen compatriot. A black tie affair, this was not, for they all knew that she wouldn't have wanted her funeral to be in such a manner. Instead; administration assistants, security guards, construction contractors, and the like; had opted to wear the plain clothes attire that had come to define her. As one such administrative assistant had mentioned, it made her stand out as a radiant blossom in their field of weeds. The only thing that seemed amiss was the absence of her sapling.

Meanwhile, in an isolated area of the Foundation compound, a boy sat against a concrete wall. Restraints made of hardened steel held him fast to the concrete floor. The chains attached to the restraints had been made of the same hardened material, and allowed him enough slack to crouch and kneel, but not to stand. In the few times of peace, the marks given to him by Jean would fade away a little. Yet, he would return to assure that they did not disappear completely. Alpha entertained the idea of breaking the restraints and strangling Jean, but he couldn't find the motivation. He had lost his 'Omi, his one guiding light in a world where he had lost everything before she showed him much more than what was.

Behind closed doors, groundwork was being laid and actions set in motion for a covert paramilitary wing of the government to operate under direct authorization of and total sovereignty granted from the Prime Minister himself. This new branch would serve two parts; the first section being the active branch with covert agents in the field, while the second section would serve as a charitable front much like the Chrysalis Foundation had been for the last year or so. The main difference would be a proactive stance toward the current separatist and criminal crisis as opposed to the current verbatim one buried in a mine field of politics, semantics, and paperwork.

For the few that would remain, such as Agent Olga Argonouva, the new site chosen seemed as a slap in the face of the fallen. It was scheduled to be a renovated mansion on the outskirts of Rome, seized from an 'Ndrangheta associate. An associate who had been apprehended after a raid conducted solely by Alpha and Omega when the whole of Italy's Law Enforcement Corps decided that despite the mountain of evidence they had acquired; the mansion and surrounding area were too heavily fortified, too well-manned, and too well-armed.

Within the area of dense foliage outside of Milan, Italy; the Crysalis Foundation stands quiet and alone. On a typical day this place would see bustling traffic, lively faces, and the familiar sounds of construction. Today, silence now had its reign, save for the slow and somber pace of the two remaining guards as they walked on patrol.

Lighting a cigarette for his comrade, they continued on their patrol.

"So; Ricardo," said the guard with the lighter. "Where did they all say it was being held?"

"Benny," Ricardo started after taking a drag. "Does this place feel like a graveyard to you?"

"Ricardo, tell me."

"One of the administrative assistants told everyone about where they were supposed to arrive, somewhere south on the western side of the boot."

"Makes sense, but why there instead of in a chapel."

"She wasn't Italian, and a Gypsy. Do you know of any that will facilitate a memorial for such a person?"

"No, I don't; but she was only half Gypsy wasn't she?"

"Tell that to the priest, all God's children my ass. She's done more for Italia than all of the Vatican and this is how they repay her."

"Oh, so you've heard of the rumors too?"

"Who here hasn't? There were apparently three search parties sent to recover her body, but the paperwork conveniently went missing three times. What's worse, they've already filed it away as a training accident."

"Bastards, I'd like to…"

"You're not going to do anything. Say you rough up Assistant Director Croce, or break Director Lorenzo's jaw; you'll only end up being transferred to NATO in some god-forsaken post, God knows where, and doing God knows what. In the meantime, right here at the Foundation, things will continue like they were."

"Then what would you have me do?"

"Do like I have; and request a transfer."

"And if it gets rejected?"

"Keep making requests or at least until your time in the service is up."

"I…I see, and how many have done this already?"

"At least half from what I've heard in the mess hall. The non-military personnel have also made intentions regarding resignation."

"What will happen to this place and what of the boy?"

"That is where things become complex. Those that haven't filed for transfer or intend to file for resignation have offered to take over the boy as their own ward. To watch over him in Nyromi's place as it were; but from what I can tell for now, the boy won't be doing anything dangerous for the time being."

"That's good isn't it?"

"You'd think so, but that's only because they have him locked up."

"What…why…what for?"

"Apparently, Alpha lost consciousness after being retrieved from the sea. When he came to, he began to assault Assistant Director Croce."

"Why would he do that? Alpha hasn't so much as brushed against Jean since Nyromi came to take over his training."

"…Why indeed. From what I hear, the boy outright pulverized him with merciless compassion, and he wailed like an injured pup all the while. Those that were there vary in how many men it took to pull Alpha off of Jean, but it's been no less than four."

"You don't think…"

"I do, but it is not to be mentioned. Understand?"

"Yes, I do. W…where is the boy now?"

"…He's…you didn't hear this from me, he's in the new interrogation room underneath the main building."

"They just finished outfitting that room."

"I know, the boy is that dreadful room's first resident."

"We've got to…"

"No, Benny. Not now, maybe not ever."

"But, Ricardo; he's just a bambino!"

"SISDE and the Nation of Italy do not see him that way. My family depends on the pay I get from the Army. As much as I would like to…I can't forsake my own children for him."

"D…does he at least get fed?"

"Yes…infrequently. Though, I hear that Jean frequents that room on nearly a daily basis. He takes one guard who waits by the door. The only thing he hears is grunts…from Jean."

"What is he doing to him?"

"I…I don't want to know."

Alpha ate the food given to him, but only because Nyromi wouldn't want him to be wasteful. These memories were all he had of Nyromi and they barely maintained the boy's will to live. Every time Alpha saw the silhouette of Jean coming through that open wooden door, he hoped that this would be the last time. In the nineteen days that he was held in that dismal place, Alpha wanted to die.

In only the span of two weeks, over half of the Foundation's non-temporary personnel had filed transfer requests or outright resignations in response to the treatment of little Alpha; not to mention the suspicious silence that had resulted in the wake of Nyromi's disappearance. No mission report had been filed and Assistant Director Croce declared that Nyromi had been killed in action before any search party had been deployed.

After the Administrative Assistants threatened to resign en masse, Alpha was to be released from his imprisonment. In order to subvert any rumors of depleting morale and rampant insubordination, Director Lorenzo filled his rapidly emptying roster with green recruits from the NOCS, Carabinieri, and Italian military. Eager to accept the status and increased pay of working for a SISDE splinter group; these recruits were selected based on the simple fact that they did not know any better.

On the morning of the twentieth day, Alpha emerged from his captivity to the waiting arms of the remaining staff. No matter what meager meals were provided, the nutritional demands of his enhanced biologics showed on his now feeble and gaunt frame. The administrative assistants, the construction crew, guards, and even the kitchen staff arrived to greet him. Although he allowed the staff to shower him in attention and affection, the child stood still as if he had either forgotten or refused how to return such in kind.

Looking around, Alpha was hoping to see but a single man; if only to finish what he began. However, Jean had been given an office at SISDE headquarters to conduct his assigned recruitment duties. The official reason was to give Jean better access to the resources available, but the remaining staff knew it was to avoid another conflict between the agent and supervisor.

After the small crowd began to slowly disperse, Alpha headed for the Agent's Quarters. However, instead of approaching his room; Alpha entered Nyromi's. Upon his arrival, Alpha saw a small stack of collapsed boxes lie on the floor just inside the entrance. In a fit of anger, Alpha threw the pieces of laminated cardboard onto the grass outside. Closing the door behind him, Alpha finally looked to the bed to find Dr. Gianncomo waiting for him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Giacomo remained silent as he gazed at the child before him. Alpha returned his gaze, answering in stoic silence. Minutes passed like hours as the doctor and his adopted ward appeared to let the time do the talking for them. Then, in one slow movement, Giacomo opened his arms. Seeing this, Alpha nearly ran into Giacomo's embrace. Burying his face into the good Doctor's chest, Alpha wept for the first time in weeks.

When incarcerated, Alpha was well aware that he was being watched. Whether by Ricardo Bianchi or Jean Croce, he cared not. Alpha refused to allow them the sight of his mourning.

"H…he killed her," Alpha said as he soaked Giacomo's shirt with his tears.

"…What?" Giacomo answered.

"Jean….he killed 'Omi."

Clutching the child to his chest, Giacomo shed tears of anger at the man who had finally found a way to hurt the boy so dear to him.