Chapter 26: Vile Fixation

File after file, clipping after clipping from newspapers and statements from the media. This was Whitley's evening in a nutshell. He had been watching Sorrell scroll through the long list of petty misdeeds his father had committed against the lower class. After the first dozen, he grew used to seeing the horrendous actions his father had taken. Whitley's gaze became a twisted glare.

Nothing surprised him anymore. Not the ways he exploited the Faunus trying to earn an honest living by paying them pitiful wages for their hard work. Not the underhanded methods of keeping threats silenced by threats or bribes. If anything, what surprised Whitley was how his father acted at social gatherings. Calm, meek, humble and jovial. The young patrician grew sickened by his prior admiration. No wonder Weiss and Winter despise him. No wonder Mother turned to alcohol.

Whitley pushed back his dark thoughts, instead returning his attention to the task at hand. He instead recalled the image that had brought him here. His memory of the assailant from that evening was vague, a possible side effect from how they incapacitated him. All he could remember was there being more than one. But even that and the evidence he already possessed failed to add up. Something missing that all the people Sorrell showed him had lacked.

"None of these individuals have the finances nor skill needed to carry this out." He sighed, crossing his arms.

Sorrell pressed his fingers to his lips, turning his chair side to side. He gave the young patrician a curious look, then said "What are your thoughts?"

Whitley brought up the image from his Scroll onto the largest of screens before them. "The ones who carried out the first intrusion. They're clearly not the White Fang, and to carry out that mission, they would have to be either experienced or lucky. But the victims my father manipulated hardly possess these traits. They have motive, but not means."

"Are you supposing this was more than a hasty attempt at vengeance?"

Whitley nodded. "I'm thinking the one in this picture was hired, which explains the shining object at his hip. If it's a weapon, then he is a Hunter."

Sorrell took control of the keyboard again. More images were pulled forth. Individuals with scars and tattoos and nasty expressions. Some bulky and angry, others slim and snake-like. One of them looked familiar, a tall man with black hair, grey clothing and a red cape. A large sword mounted on the back of his waist.

"It's common for Hunters to become mercenaries, however, it's not unheard of for some to take on dirty work." He explained. "Hired muscle, assassins or thieves. But services like that require inordinate amounts of lien."

"Hence why it is improbable the one who requested such services was one of the hundreds you've shown me. My father-" Whitley shuddered unintentionally after muttering the phrase he once endeared before. "My father left them all to bankruptcy or low poverty. Unless they all banded together to pitch in whatever lien they could. But in that case, why bring the White Fang into this?"

"A scapegoat, perhaps?" Sorrell suggested. "They may have hoped the White Fang would finish the job for them."

"But what satisfaction does that bring them?" Whitley questioned. "Wouldn't they want their vendetta carried out by their own hands? My father left them with nothing to lose."

"Very clever." Sorrell congratulated, sounding genuine, though Whitley ignored it. He was not here for praise. "So, what you're saying is whoever orchestrated this was driven but not personally and has plenty of lien lying around."

Whitley nodded. It all added up, but what kind of person would that be? There was one that came to mind. The young patrician cast a suspicious eye to his newfound ally. Could it be him? Then why is he-

"There is one person that fits the bill. To a T, almost." Sorrell interrupted his thoughts. He typed away, delving further into the files. A new page emerged, alongside several pictures. They all showed a woman, both beautiful and menacing. Mauve hair in a beehive style, with curls uncoiling around her emerald green eyes. She wore heavy makeup and a faint scowl as she stared into the camera. An expensive kimono wrapped around her, yet revealed her shoulders and collarbone. Each image showed the same woman in different positions, some close, some from afar.

"Her name is Hisui." Sorrell said, a faint smile on his face. It was betrayed by his burning glare, which looked as though he wanted to roll them so powerfully, they might pop out of his skull. "Hisui Kujaku. Known in Mistral as the Baroness."

(-)

Coal would have pulled away if he could. It would have most likely resulted in less agony. But his claws were tangled in the chains, so the most he could hope for was holding on for dear life. The Faunus frowned, realizing the tangled mess as well. He instead chose to grab the hilt and swing his wrecking ball round and round. As he was flying around the room, still clinging, Coal realized how close he was to their target. And the biggest threat was sailing behind him. If he could get closer-

Viridian's howling broke Coal's thoughts, but he couldn't see what he was doing. Knowing the gladiator, it wasn't hard to realize his plan. Charging in as usual. Next thing Coal knew, he was struck across the side by something sharp and heavy. The impact dislodged his fingers from the chain, sending the hapless Hunter to-be crashing through a pillar. He groaned from under the rubble, hearing more clashing and the giant grunted. Did Grouch land a good strike?

"Now wait just a minute." The Faunus blurted out, the action put to a halt. "You didn't even falter when your friend was in the way."

Well, that explains that sharp pain. "You didn't even hesitate?!" Coal screamed. Oh, what am I saying? This is Grouch we're talking about.

"You were in the way." Viridian explained, looking down on Coal as though he were at fault. "At least I got a good hit in."

"Ugh..." Coal grabbed onto a stable looking chunk of the pillar to heave himself up off the ground. Instead, it broke off, stabbing into his hand. He winced, wondering why it hurt more than it should. One look at his palm, and a bead of blood growing in the center gave him his answer. He wiped his hand against his pants, careful as he rose from the rubble. Sera was going in for another strike, but as with the past half dozen attempts, the Faunus caught the bladed whip with his bare hands.

"I'm getting tired of you brats and your stale moves." He yanked hard on the chain, jerking her forward. Coal cursed silently before dashing forward. He pushed Sera out of the way, taking the giant's punch himself. His entire body shuddered, collapsing back. But he saw Sera swing herself around the Faunus. Was it part of her plan to begin with? What, am I just disposable? Despite his complaining, Coal was grateful Sera was fine.

The psychic circled around him again and again. When she finally stopped, her feet pushing against the opposite side of another pillar, her whip had bound the Faunus. He growled, beginning to break free. His arms were stuck at his sides, and even though Sera tried with what little might she had, he was still more than strong enough to escape. However slow, progress was still being made. But once he realized Viridian was preparing another attack, it dawned on him that it wouldn't be fast enough. The Faunus scowled, baring his teeth, but turned away from the young fighters.

"I don't have time for this!" He shouted. His horns blocked Viridian's sword as he wriggled his way out of Sera's bonds. She tried to fight back, but the giant swiveled towards the binding whips, and once they became loose, his mace pushed back the gladiator once more. He wrestled free of the rest of the whips, and set upon the psychic. "Take a nap for a little while, why don't ya?" He growled as he kicked her with the flat of his foot.

Only it didn't hit her. It struck Coal, who shoved Seraphina out of the way. The blow sent sparks of pain coursing throughout his body. He fell to the ground, clutching his sides. Coal was tired. He didn't want to move anymore, and hoped his last act would ensure the safety of the others. He let out a sickly fit of coughing, and after it passed, he did not open his eyes again. He could hear footsteps, yet it sounded distant. Am I gonna pass out? But Coal realized the footsteps getting louder, like a stampede.

"Dammit." He heard the Faunus mumble. Coal opened his eyes, trying to make out the blurs in his vision. The vague blobs in his vision turned into soldiers. Tons of them. They surrounded the Faunus, guns at the ready.

"Drop your weapon!" One of them demanded. The Faunus grumbled, but complied. His mace fell to the ground with a booming thud, while his hands were behind the back of his head.

"Guess you kids win this time." He said as he was being apprehended. "Not bad. Just hope I don't find you guys for a rematch." Coal struggled to keep his head up, eyelids feeling heavy. After hearing the giant's farewell, he lost consciousness, mind drifting into the dark.

(-)

"Mistral?" Whitley asked, perplexed by the change in topic.

Sorrell nodded, frowning at the woman in the images. "Hisui has been a thorn in my side for as long as I can remember. Think of her as Mistral's actual ruler. Using both her generous funds and the loyalty of those around her, she controls just about everything there and the surrounding cities."

"If her focus is in Mistral, then why would she target my family?"

"In order to get to me." He replied. "Your father and I are very close business partners. If one wanted to destroy me, they would first have to cripple my assets."

Whitley frowned. "What a horrible relationship..."

"Eat or be eaten." Sorrell chuckled. "That law has never changed over the thousands of years we've walked on this Remnant. What has changed is our tools and methods."

"We're straying off topic." Whitley reminded the aristocrat. "Tell me about her."

"She comes from a famous, old family. Their contributions to the arts have amassed them countless lien. That kind of money could easily pay off a couple Hunters for whatever she desired of them. And her vile fixation was always on her enemies, near and far. Meticulous and carefully, she controls many in Mistral. Even the Headmaster of Haven is in her pocket. What's most dangerous about Hisui is her dedication. She will gladly use any underhanded methods to get what she desires."

Whitley mulled over the facts. It did leave this Hisui as a plausible suspect, more so than the others Sorrell showed him. Either way, he didn't have any other leads. "Are you certain you can find evidence of her interference?"

Sorrell laughed, loud enough to make Whitley flinch. "I've been trying for years to get more dirt on her. Few of my spies have returned with anything useful. Which reminds me, I should request Lady Elmont to try harder."

Elmont? Wasn't that another famous family? Equal to the Schnees, only their trade was produce and food. "But can you do it?" Whitley pressed.

"I can." Sorrell was smirking again, glaring at the image of Hisui. "It may take a while, but I'll find out more on her."

"How long is a while?"

"At least a couple months." Sorrell's answer left Whitley disappointed. "Oh, one thing you should know. Hisui has been trying to undermine me for years. Just as I have spies on her, she has her minions stealing information from me. I believe it best if you watch yourself. Who knows, you may be her next target." The aristocrat sneered at him. But Whitley returned his gaze with a glare.

"I'll be sure to tread carefully, then."

(-)

"Rise and shine, Coal."

Coal awoke with a start, breathing in swift bursts as he sat up. His mind was racing with muddled thoughts and hazy memories. The Schnee household. White Fang. Faunus. Mask. Azure. "Azure!" He cried out, looking around to try and find his partner. He then realized he was shirtless, gut bandaged with a blanket draping off his chest. He was laying on some more covers, which were on top of a hard, metal surface he realized was a truck, a kind used to carry military personnel.

"Welcome back." Sera laughed, looking rough and bruised, but overall better than he felt. "Azure is fine. She's still hasn't come to, but she's breathing and resting in the truck next over."

"Oh, thank goodness..." Coal rested his head back down again, sighing. The psychic scoffed in an amused manner.

"We're fine, too, thanks so much for asking."

"The cheer in your tone was proof enough." He mumbled. And then he was up again in panic. "The White Fang! Did we stop them?! Argh-" His torso flashed with pain, before fading slightly.

"Ah, yes." Sera gestured to herself and the gladiator leaning nearby, whom Coal just now noticed. "We're fine. You, not so much. Five cracked ribs, two broken, what else was there... Do you remember, V?"

"Does it matter?" He answered, frowning as usual. "We won. All that does matter."

"If you call being saved by backup winning..."

"We didn't lose. That's what I call winning." He replied with a distasteful tone.

"I won't argue with Grouch on this one."

"Are you ever gonna stop calling me that?" Viridian asked.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Coal replied, grinning. He drowned out whatever response Viridian would spit back, instead turning his gaze skyward. He shuffled, trying to get as comfortable as one could with his current setting. He recalled the masked Faunus that nearly pulverized them. There were many questions on his mind, but for now, he was relieved team Canvas succeeded. They were still alive and well, able to witness another sunrise. As he stared into the pitch black sky, he realized how melancholy he felt about something so ordinary, something that happens every day. He couldn't wait to wake up to the sunlight pouring through the window.

"Headmaster Ironwood." Sera announced, pulling Coal out of his daze. He sat up to see both the Headmaster and Mr. Schnee approach the recovering students. He began to sit up, but the Headmaster gestured for him to stop.

"Please, be at ease. I only wanted to congratulate you all on a successful mission."

"Yes," Mr. Schnee said in agreement. "You performed excellently, surpassing my expectations, an occurrence I assure you is rare. Well done, all of you. Thanks to your efforts, the destruction here was minimalized tremendously." Coal didn't need to guess that behind that mustache, the businessman was smiling ear to ear.

"You're too kind, sir, Mr. Schnee." The psychic replied with an appreciative nod.

"No, if anything..." Headmaster Ironwood's expression turned sullen. "I heavily underestimated the White Fang's forces. I am deeply sorry for sending you to your potential doom."

"We made it out, thanks to you." Viridian answered, surprising Coal. "It was nothing we couldn't handle." The Headmaster looked relieved, making Coal wonder if this ordeal put such a heavy weight on his mind.

"That aside, what'll happen to them?" Coal asked. He pointed behind the two adults, where he could make out White Fang soldiers being escorted onto a carrier ship. Their heads hung low as they were nudged on board. Even though they were trying to kill himself and his friends, Coal still felt pity for the gloomy Faunus. Jacques sneered at the captive Faunus.

"If you ask me, they should be locked up until the end of their days. Filthy animals. Terrorists."

"They will be." Headmaster Ironwood declared, and by his tone Coal could tell he wasn't amused by Jacques' prejudice. "The White Fang have been dealt a heavy blow today, and it should resonate through their ranks. I only hope it will be enough to stop the rest of them." He cleared his throat, standing more stiffly than before as he faced the students. "Once again, congratulations. When you return to the Academy, you will be relieved of your studies for up to a week in order to rest and recover."

Viridian turned away, his arms crossed. "Pass. Don't need it. A little fatigue won't hold me back."

"I'm in agreement with my partner, Headmaster." Sera chimed. "Though I appreciate the offer."

"Y'know, I don't think I have a choice." Coal chuckled as he placed a hand gently on his bandaged gut. The Headmaster's face lit up, and he smiled.

"I will notify the professors. If you'll excuse me, I must see to other matters." He turned to leave, but Jacques' hand on his shoulder stopped him. Puzzled, Headmaster Ironwood stared at his old friend.

"... Thank you, James. I am truly grateful." Mr. Schnee said after a pause. James smiled faintly, and left without another word. Jacques also departed, already retrieving his Scroll. No doubt he was contacting his wife and son to tell them it was safe. The three Hunters in training were left to themselves. Coal might have returned to his nap if it wasn't for Sera leaning closer. Her smile was gentle, not her usual conspiring grin.

"That reminds me, Coal, I forgot to thank you." She whispered, her voice soft.

Coal felt uncomfortable. Incredibly uncomfortable. He leaned back further, replying "For what?"

"Why, for saving me. That's thrice now, isn't it? Such gallantry need not go unrewarded, wouldn't you agree?" Her mouth twitched, spreading into a smirk as she pulled closer still.

Coal rolled his eyes, blocking her off with his hand. "How about no?" She brushed his hand aside, giggling seductively.

"There's no need to be coy, I simply wish to express my gratitude."

"You made the right move, team leader Coal." Viridian blurted, interrupting Seraphina's attack. Inches from his face, Coal watched as the luster in her eyes vanish, replaced with disdain. "Never trust a single word this witch spouts. You'll go mad if you do." The psychic pulled away, ready to chide the gladiator.

"Way to kill the mood, V."

"Thanks for the save, Grouch."

Viridian shook his head as he let out a groan. "The day you two decide to keel over and die can't come soon enough." Sera brushed her hair aside, locks swaying in the air as she got up, grumbling in frustration. Coal laughed, pleased to see things return to normal. Rather, whatever can be defined as normal for them. He watched the pitch black sky again, noticing a faint shimmering of a lone star. He couldn't wait to get back to the Academy and take a nice, long break from everything. Heaven knows he needed it.

(-)

Defeat tasted bitter, and the shame it brought was crushing. The White Fang Lieutenant growled at the nearby soldiers while he sat, covered in heavy chains, shackled to one of many seats on the military ship. His comrades were bound to their seats just as he was, though few lashed out with his kind of ferocity. Cowards, every one of them. Though in truth, he empathized with them. He wasn't proud of their result either. And now they were caged like animals, like what all humans see Faunus as.

Clay could hear the General's self satisfied voice from somewhere, and it boiled his blood. If only he could have another chance to rip his head off. If only that blasted Hunter hadn't halted their rampage. The few soldiers they did manage to kill could hardly satisfy them. The White Fang was about justice. Blood for the price of blood. The Lieutenant throttled in his bindings again, causing the soldiers to look at him with fear and disgust.

The whole ship vibrated, before stabilizing. He could feel his body pressing further into his seat. The ship had taken off. Prison awaited the noble warriors. Some of the soldiers started removing their head gear, releasing heavy sighs with their faces free. Clay memorized every single one of their faces. If he ever broke free, he would find and slaughter every one of them.

"Phew!" A bald, older man exclaimed. "That about wraps this up. Thank God."

"I know what you mean." This man had red hair, and a scar under his right eye. "We lost twenty three good men today. You hear that, White Fang? Twenty three honest working men and women lost their lives because of you."

"Not enough, if you ask me." Clay spat back. The man's expression twisted with fury, and he had to be stopped by a third, a blonde female, before he could bash Clay's face in.

"He's not worth it. Just let it go." She chided. There were seven of them here now. Each bitter about their fallen allies. As if the White Fang didn't also suffer casualties. But no, it's the humans that matter. There wasn't a single Faunus among these soldiers, and rightly so. Any Faunus with a sense of loyalty would shoot himself before joining Ironwood's forces. Another soldier appeared, female, with brown eyes, and dark green hair in a bun. She showed no particular emotions, but Clay burned her image in his memory all the same.

"Hey, I got an idea for a fun game." The bald one said. "These prisoners need be catalogued anyway, so what do you say we begin the unveiling?" His suggestion was met with agreement among the humans and howls of defiance from the Faunus. "Call everyone else here. I've always wondered what the bloodthirsty Lieutenant looked like under that mask."

"Worthless trash! Touch me, and I'll tear your throat out!" Clay's outburst was met with boos and laughter.

The bald one continued. "And you wonder why we think of you like animals. You're practically feral!" He crouched down, and the Lieutenant was held back by his restraints almost within reach. Others soon clamored around him, the chamber half full. The green haired girl remained emotionless, leaning next to some equipment on hooks. But Clay payed her no attention. This bald bastard was gonna lose an eye, preferably more. The human extended his hand, dangling before Clay's mask, when the PA activated, and a booming voice resounded through the ship.

"Goooood evening, ladies and gentlemen of all ages and species!" The male, chipper voice bellowed. The commotion stopped, all eyes looking up. The speaker continued, saying "This is your pilot speaking, informing you all that we are on course to the Upper Atlas jail! I'd just like to congratulate you all on a job well done! A round of applause for these brave soldiers, if you please!" Something about the voice sounded familiar.

"Who the heck did Lloyd leave in charge of the mic?" One person asked.

"Now, I'm afraid I have some bad news for everyone. We are taking a little detour," His voice hit a high note at the word 'little'. "But only for a delivery. It'll be quick, I promise. Thanks again for choosing Torchwick Airlines for all your transportation needs!" Torchwick? The humans stirred, murmuring with worry and confusion. "Just a reminder your exits are the middle and far back of both the port and starboard, as well as the bow. Not sure if navy terms work for an airship, but let's go with it." The entire ship tilted upwards. Green haired lady pulled out a pink umbrella.

"You may also have noticed, assuming you're not brain dead, that all exits are now locked." The humans struggled to ascend the inclining floor, shaking the doors. "Not to worry, everything is under control. The little snag, you don't want things to be under my control. Now, fun fact about this particular ship. The docking bay is located directly at the stern. That is the back for all you landlubbers." The passengers, humans and Faunus, had their gravity shift to the stern in mention. Some of the soldiers began to fly towards it, landing on the unyielding metal hull.

The chaos only worsened as the voice continued to prattle on. "My apologies, we appear to be overbooked with passengers. Please see yourselves out via the docking bay." Every human was clinging for life as the ship flew directly up, the Faunus safely shackled. Clay saw the green haired one had hooked her umbrella and was calmly watching, smiling. The whirring started, and everyone could hear little more than the hissing winds and the voice through the PA. "Take care, and safe travels." They all heard over the gusts and screams. All at once, the soldiers flew out of the ship against their will, their cries dying as they exited.

After every soldier but one departed, the hatch closed, and the ship returned to its upright position. The remaining lady unhooked her umbrella, and her body shimmered, unveiling the disguise. Neopolitan smiled at Clay, bowing. She got to work undoing the chains binding the Faunus. After the Lieutenant was freed, he heard the doors emit a clunking sound. One opened and out forth stepped Roman Torchwick, smirking.

"Ahh? Do I know how to make an entrance, or what? How's it going, Mr. Lieutenant?" Roman tipped his bowler hat. "Isn't it nice to be free of your chains? Smell that air! Freedom is so underrated."

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, rubbing his wrists.

"Normally, people thank their saviors for freeing them."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Roman rolled his eyes, loosened his cane from his elbow, and pulled out a cigar. "Y'see, after you told me to get lost, I thought to myself 'Are they really going to go in without an escape plan?' And voilà! Here we are!"

"I told you this is our war." Clay snapped.

"And I think you need a little helping hand. Someone who can provide you with some goods. Someone who can mix in with the humans seamlessly." Roman raised his hands, still smiling. "Of course, the decision is still up to you. Tell ya what. You can think on it while I take you to your destination. So where to, Lieutenant?"

Clay wasn't sure what call to make. It was true, Roman had saved them. Roman had been there every step of the way until Clay discarded him. And still, he persisted. But he was a human. Perhaps... "What are your thoughts on the humans, Torchwick?"

Roman's eyes narrowed with glee. "Can't stand em. There's a reason I resort to crime."

The Lieutenant thought on his words. Silence filled the room, Roman's little pet finished her duty and returned to his side. His brethren was free, because of a human. He didn't like being at the mercy of a human. But the notion didn't seem completely vile. "Take us to Mantle. We have a smaller, more discreet branch there."

"You're the boss." Roman answered.

(-)

Whitley had taken to studying what little information Sorrell had on the baroness. The aristocrat was amused by Whitley's change of heart after observing the damage Jacques was responsible for. It was a relief to him, as he didn't have to go to more drastic measures to brainwash him. If he had known that all it took was hearing about Violette's kidnapping, then he would have saved himself the headache caused by plotting more fallback plans in case everything failed. For the time being, there was just one last action to seal the deal. All he must do is wait for the right timing.

The two were interrupted from their research by a ring tone. Whitley pulled out his Scroll, while Sorrell watched with hungry eyes. After a moment, the young patrician returned it to his pocket, his face relaxed. "That was my father." Whitley said without turning to face Sorrell. "The attack is over. The White Fang was stopped and captured."

"That's fantastic news. Does this mean you'll be returning home soon?" Sorrell watched the ease drain from Whitley's face, bringing the aristocrat much joy. It was a difficult topic for him now. What will you do, Whitley? How will you face your father now?

"...Yes. Though our business is far from over. Can I leave the investigations of Hisui to you?"

"Of course you can. Although I doubt it will be anytime soon, I will inform you once I have sufficient evidence. Then this is goodbye?"

"It is." Whitley replied, though his expression was clouded with hatred and doubt. He made for the door, shoving his hands into his pockets, before he stopped and turned. "There's just a few questions I need answered."

Here it is, Sorrell thought with glee. "Ask away."

"Who is the one you sent in to spy on the White Fang?"

Sorrell blinked, then frowned. What a boring question. "One Roman Torchwick. Surely you're familiar with the name?" Whitley was shaken, but not appalled. That can't be all the mysteries on his mind.

"Were you behind Violette's disappearance?" He asked, fists clenched inside his pockets. Whitley's glare was impressive, the aristocrat noted. He'll make a fine ally one day. "You mentioned having a hand to play in most of the cases you showed me. I need to know; was her disappearance your doing?"

There it is. Sorrell was wondering when the boy would question him about it. His grin spread further as he answered. "Yes." Such a simple word, yet such a powerful effect on the boy. The twisting emotions written on Whitley's face were incredible. And now comes his part in the script. "You don't trust me, do you?

Whitley paused again, looking away, with one hand on the door handle. "No. I don't trust you. Not fully." Sorrell laughed at his honesty.

"That's quite all right. Plenty of my relationships with others are built on mistrust. Though considering your... unique circumstances, I commend your decision making skills. Though, I suppose your circumstances aren't so unique after all."

"And what do you mean by that?" Whitley demanded.

"You remind me so much of myself when I was younger." Sorrell stated. At this point, the aristocrat felt like a lion, toying with his prey. Poor Whitley's face contorted with shock almost made him lose face. "What? How else do you think I got into this illicit trade? I inherited from my father. Just like you'll inherit your own father's sins and burdens." He chuckled, then continued. "My mistake, it's not you who will inherit it. It's your sister, Weiss, isn't it?"

Whitley glared back, swinging the door open. "Goodbye, Mr. Alaric." He shouted before slamming it shut. Sorrell continued to snicker to himself. That had gone as well as he hoped it would. Now done with his charade, Sorrell tossed the half extinguished cigar away. Midna caught it before the ashes could hit the floor, cupping it in her hands as she disposed of it.

"Pardon my meddling, sir," She said in an emotionless tone. "But I never thought you would see so much of yourself in the boy."

The aristocrat scoffed, clearing the files and images from the screen. "Don't be disgusting. The only thing I see in that brat is potential use and obtrusive dismay."

"Of course, my apologies." She answered quickly. "To be frank, you were calmer than I expected. I was prepared to clean up a corpse the moment you stood up."

"Restraint is something taught, Midna. If you think how I treated him was merciful, wait until you see what I have in store for Coal. Tell him I request his presence. That will be all." The dark one bowed, and vanished from sight. With her gone, the aristocrat seethed with rage. He was on his feet, fists shaking, pacing back and forth until he grabbed the a paperweight off the side table. It flew towards the screens, exploding upon impact. Sparks flew from the now black screens. Hell awaits that boy.