Tertia Optio

by 00GoldEagle00

A lone mercenary tries desperately to find salvation , and wants to cut away his mysterious past. But to get there, he accepts a job that will lead him to a string of events he could never have foreseen. With the war against the occupation forces shifting gears, he is now stuck between Resistance forces, ADVENT and XCOM. A hunt for him and his newest client has begun.

7. SPIRITVS RECTORA

SPIRITVS RECTORA

I heeled the mischievous Viper back into her living room, my head spinning from the many thoughts that bounced around in my mind.

This was… nice, fun even… and yet I cannot shake the feeling that we did something we shouldn't have. Was this too close? She seems to not worry about it at all, and maybe I should not worry as well. It was a one-time thing too, wasn't it? The world has become crazy… one day you are in Afghanistan fighting guerrillas, and then you are suddenly a bodyguard and hand out shoulder rubs to Vipers.

"Shall we continue our talk? Or do you have plans already?" Yanaraah asked.

To my surprise, the sun was already losing itself behind the hills, making me wonder how much time we have spent in her bathroom. I carefully stepped over the thick tail before me, seating myself on the couch once more.

"That was the plan before I ran into you, so let's move on."

"Do you want something to drink?" Her voice was echoing from the inside of the fridge as she rummaged through it.

"Sure."

I made myself comfortable on the couch, awaiting her to join me. Her apartment was a mess. Besides the piling mountains of clothes and the dust on her TV, I noticed a bra that was lying on the far end of the coffee table next to me. The couch had some spots and stains on it as well, she probably has been eating here. My flat wasn't much better, especially after relocating my arsenal here, but I didn't expect her rooms to be this chaotic. The Viper returned with two glasses of the ominous red drink, one of them being full to the max and the other being at half capacity. Then I noticed her worried look, and how her shoulders have sagged down.

"Why are you looking so gloomy? Plant yourself over here and tell me what troubles you." I spoke.

It's always the best to attack the problem directly. No need to dance around the bush.

She hesitantly approached, handing me my glass and seating herself on the couch, her coils forming a pretzel underneath her. She did not look me in the eye when she rubbed her forearm and mumbled a faint excuse under her breath;

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" I asked.

"For making you uncomfortable. I feel like I have overstepped a line there; It already surprised me when you didn't run out of the bathroom once I undressed." She tried to explain, the predatory claws of hers digging into her forearms' scales. "I didn't consider any boundaries there. I know humans find us revolting."

"Who told you this cra- this nonsense? If I found you revolting, I wouldn't be here, would I?" I smiled with a certain amount of faked confidence. "I think we both talked past each other, then. I was startled because you just pulled bare, not because you are hideous or anything. You're not revolting in the slightest, Princess. Quite the opposite."

Her blush returned, stronger than ever, colouring her white scales in the shade of sunflowers. Her hood flared out and her tongue was lazily hanging from her mouth as she tried to recollect herself. I chuckled at the display of the gigantic Snake being helplessly overwhelmed with a simple compliment.

"I would have never… you thought I…" she stammered. "I assumed you got uncomfortable with… because, well… thought I was ugly? Or scary, even? Humans rarely want to be close to us — and if they do, it's for the wrong reasons."

"Wrong reasons, huh? Like getting bitten on purpose?" I joked. "And of course, you're scary — You are a seven-meter-long alien!"

"Yes, really frightening… that big, mean Viper without combat experience and who can't scratch her own back."

"Ah, come on, don't beat yourself down because of your body. Those fangs and claws of yours alone are enough to put any other of your kind to shame."

"A real monster, huh?" She poked back. "I'm terrifying enough to get a cold-blooded mercenary to cower in fear, especially when I'm naked."

"Oh, I was terrified! You see, when a female undresses herself in front of a man, it's usually…"

"Stop it!" She said, laughing as she realised the silliness of our half-flirty, half-jokingly banter. She held her free hand in front of her maw while a hissing giggle escaped from her. I joined in, and we both shared a laugh like the fools we were.

I leaned back on the couch, almost spilling some of the mysterious red juice on me.

"We should speak our minds like this more often. By the way, what is this stuff?" I said, sniffing the content of the glass. "It smells sweet, but I can't tell what it is."

"It's berry juice, my favourite." She gulped down half of her glass in one go and licked her thin lips with her freakishly long tongue. "So, you suggest we should speak more direct with each other? I thought we already do that?"

"I mean on a more trustful level? We almost fell into a pit earlier when we didn't." I tasted the drink, its colour and smell reminding me of Kool-Aid. It was way too sweet for me, but not unpleasant.

"So, should we just start saying what we have on our mind, then? Can I start?" She said.

I nodded and braced myself for whatever she had on her mind.

"When we spoke to my mother, you said that you wouldn't have accepted the offer if it was coming from somebody else; did you mean that? That without me you would never have joined ADVENT?"

"You're the only reason I considered it, and it was the best option left after my plans to leave the continent faltered. If I had to talk through the night with anybody else, I wouldn't have considered joining. I saved you, and you saved me — in more than just one way. Could say someone destined it to happen. I still owe you for that."

"And I owe you." She set down her glass on the coffee table and tapped her claws together. "May I make a proposition?"

"Go ahead." I said, taking another sip of the sweet beverage.

"How about we both forget about these debts to each other? We shouldn't rely on… necessity? It feels superficial, being… dependent on them. We are both more than just slaves to our debts and obligations, can't we do something for the other because we want to? Help each other out like you said to my mother?"

She is right. I was thinking about this nonsense since I arrived.

"Yeah." I said. "I'd like that. We should concentrate on what the future brings instead of racking our brains about who owes something to whom."

Yanaraah's face beamed up and her long tail moved uncontrollably as her tip wagged. It was good to see her in high spirits again, and I couldn't deny that I had grown a soft spot for this Snake.

"I think it's my turn to come clean, isn't it?"

She nodded, her tongue tasting the air again.

I set down my glass as well, combing my shortened hair with my fingers. "The way you stood up for me in front of your own mother, or how you set me up here, got me everything I needed… I had some doubts before, but now I'm certain accepting your offer was the best choice I made in the past years."

"Honestly, I wasn't that surprised when you denied at first and fooled me… I am used to people turning away, not listening, and trying to keep their distance from me. It's upsetting to no end, especially when I'm just trying to socialise. That's part of the reason I wanted to recruit you." Yanaraah rested her head on her hands, pressing her elbows on her thick coils. "You didn't judge me for being a Viper."

"Oh, but I did…" I answered with cold honesty. "But then we talked, even when I didn't want to, and you told me about all your petty problems, how your work frustrated you. Things that bothered you, how you were trying to do your job, had this life dictated to you… and how XCOM just threw you into that hole. We had more similarities than differences."

The Princess thought about my words with care. The sunlight behind me died out completely, the room being dark for a moment. Her smouldering eyes glanced at me from the darkness until the sensors in the ceiling turned on the warm lights above us. The windows tinted themselves, giving us more privacy.

"You're the first human I had any meaningful talk with. You do not know how important that is to me — I spent so much time learning to communicate but had no, well, praxis? Only a lot of failed attempts. And then you came along, and my time studying and learning about humans finally comes to… fruition, is what you would say?"

"I would use easier words, but yeah. I have to admit that I'm still undecided what to think about ADVENT, but in the end, it's just another government I work for. My resentment towards Vipers has definitely changed, though."

"I feel like I can talk about anything with you too… and practice a lot. Just today we were bickering, arguing, forgiving and teasing each other!" She added with excitement. "In the past, my mother was the only one I talked to regularly, but that has changed since I became an adult. And now I have you, the always-sarcastic mercenary, to do silly conversation. Given your position, I will have a lot of time to get through your shell. That's why I believe this will be a wonderful… partnership? Collaboration? What would you call it?"

Is that what we are? Partners? My thoughts tried to come up with a fitting word.

"As you said, we should leave our debts and obligations behind. Screw those formalities. I believe friends is a better fit for us both."

My friend, the giant alien snake. I smiled at her and myself. Hopefully, she thought the same here.

The tip of her tail wagged again, bumping into the side of the couch once or twice — she was clearly on board with my suggestion.

"So, we are friends? I never really had a… well, that sounds sad, but I never had a friend before. Nobody I would consider, I mean."

"There is a first time for anything." I said. "But why do you have no friends? Look at you, you are fun to have around, got plenty of talents, always try to help… what's there not to like? Surely there is somebody you hang out with or stay in contact with."

"Well, even if you don't believe me, I really haven't been outside much. Since the latest attacks, I was forced to stay where I was, which was this ivory tower." She said, looking around herself with what could only be described as disgust on her face. She pulled up her nostrils and scoffed at the white walls of her living room. Yanaraah exhaled deeply and continued to explain.

"My mother forbade me to go anywhere public, unless when a literal army of guards would accompany me. You can guess why that makes making friends nearly impossible. Therefore, I've only come to know some of the other public officials in this city — and I hardly count them as friends."

"Well, what about the other Vipers in this city? Or your guards? Is there nobody you know well enough or spend time with?"

She shook her head. "City 11 may have the most Vipers of any city, but they treat me like my mother; always keeping their distance, trying not to talk to me unless I speak to them first. Call it the curse of royalty — they are too afraid of me and the Matriarch to even make eye contact. And the clones? They only follow their training and the orders that are given. Ordering somebody of the lowest caste to talk with you isn't what I would call friendship."

"I only understand that partially — those castes of yours; could you explain to me how this works? It seems more like a hindering than an advantage to divide your own people." I asked.

"We have three castes, with the cloned Vipers being the lowest; They were created to fight." She began to explain; "Sometimes their DNA was changed to accommodate cold environment, store more venom, be less receptive to pain, you name it. The Elders have incorporated human DNA into all the races, but the Vipers have been tampered the least with. There are many branches and versions of the cloned Vipers as well, with unique anatomy or genetic changes between the units. But most of the clones appear to be the same breed from the outside."

That explains why they are so consistent in terms of looks, but perform so differently in combat.

"The second caste is the common, or un-tampered Viper. They are a lot rarer to see and have much more variety of looks within them. They work as scientists, medical staff, perform higher duties. All the male Vipers fall into this category as well. This caste of Vipers only receives DNA changes if they want them and if they are approved by the Matriarch — except for the males, because they cannot be risked or be tampered with at any cost."

"Male Vipers? I thought those were a myth." I immediately asked.

My question threw Yanaraah out of her loop, and she shifted in her seat. The mention of the males of her species made her slightly uncomfortable, but I had taken an interest in the Viper hegemony. I was working for them, after all.

"They are quite real, but there are only a handful of them. Not even I know where they are though, only the Matriarch knows and can… procreate or allow a Viper of the second caste to do so. The Elders prefer cloning and the perfection of genes, but don't clone males. They allow us to, well, breed our own, but only with restrictions." She answered, nervously scratching the side of her hood as her blush returned.

"And the third caste? I suppose the royals?" I inquired after she didn't continue her thought.

"Ah yes… Only my mother and I are in the highest caste. As you might have noticed, we are longer and larger than other Vipers — that's mostly because of the genetic part we share. The royal caste was always a tad bit bigger. But we also got augmented with human DNA as well, but not in the same parts as the cloned Vipers. We basically share the same amount of it, but it isn't used for enhancing combat ability or toughness or any of that…"

"Well, what does it do then?"

"Our metabolism for example got changed, we can eat a lot more things the common Viper couldn't." She tried to dodge the question, only carrying on with her explanation when I gave her a raised eyebrow. "It also aims at our own… appearance. The Elders argued that with these improvements, we would be more accepted by humanity. It was basically making us look better. Some minor things, like making our eyes a little bigger, because that's what humans like, or making our tongue thicker so we could talk human languages with less effort. There were lots of insignificant changes, like to our body proportions, just to appeal to the humans."

"Hold on, I thought your mother wasn't that much of a fan of humanity; why did she accept this? Don't you have a bit of saying within ADVENT? At least what happens to your own body?"

"My mother accepted under the condition that it would also strengthen us and increase our…" She blushed, and her face beamed up in the colour of her golden blood. "… Fertility. It's complicated to explain…"

The Matriarch used the opportunity to make offspring of her bloodline more likely, and perhaps, to alter herself like she wanted as well. With all that pressure from above, I can understand why she did what she did. Yanaraah was altered as well, but when did that happen? The Elders must have pounded on their plans afterwards.

"Sounds like a good deal for all sides, but why are you are the ambassador, not her? Why did they choose you? And when did they do all this?" I rattled down the questions in my head.

Yanaraah folded her hands together, being visibly calmer than before. "I was unspoiled, like they said. They chose me because the Matriarch was in the war from the very beginning, and she grew bitter and resentful. They augmented both of us as the Matriarch was pregnant with me during that procedure. She is a wonderful mother, and a good leader of our species — but she knows little about diplomacy, or humans, for that matter. She is only interested in the survival of our species and to serve the Elders, like a good Matriarch should. But I was trained, and even born to lead everyone, and they gave me the destiny to do what she couldn't."

Now I understand. She isn't just an ambassador, or just the "Viper Princess", she is the Elders' plan to unite us all. Created to do what they wanted — That's why she is basically locked up in here. And they all care jack-shit about her and her feelings… or what she wants to do… how the pressure is building up in her. But what did I expect of those ominous overlords? Charity? Thoughtfulness?

"Destiny…" I scoffed. "I had a destiny once. You shouldn't stay too focused on it, otherwise… let's say it doesn't end that well."

"What was your destiny?" She perked up, probably thankful for the change of topic.

"Well, I have one part of my destiny engraved in my face." My Index followed the faint trail of the scar across my eye. "And the other part is engraved on my chest with black ink. The rest is in the gutters, burnt to a crisp or was killed long ago. I am a man without a goal or a purpose. Or I was. Thanks to you, I have another chance. But I guess that's what friends are for." I raised my glass towards her and drank more of the sweet juice.

Death and carnage were dictating my existence for far too long, and I was tired of it. So damn tired. Whatever my destiny once was doesn't matter anymore. Now I can start anew, really live for once. I'm finally back in business, have an actual roof above my head and warm meals of my choosing every day. It's not what I had imagined, and working for ADVENT certainly wasn't perfect, but it was a start. A new life, thanks to her. Making sure that nothing happens to the Princess would be my mission, but not my new destiny. That would be one I would choose myself.

Her smile returned, although being weaker than before. "Friends… yeah. I just hope that more humans will come to that revelation of yours. Seeing us as people and not as monsters. There is so much I want to create, improve, and renew in this world. I just wish for the skirmishes and attacks to end so we can finally rebuild… even if some people don't want us here. ADVENT isn't perfect, and that's coming from one of their ambassadors."

I took another nip of my sweet beverage. "I'm afraid this war will drag on for a long time. We humans can be more stubborn than any Muton."

Yanaraah cocked her head to the left; "War? The war is long over. It's just some rebels and small resistance cells."

"No, I'm afraid not. A war like this doesn't just simply end; especially when the winning side occupies the loser's territory. The conflict merely changed its form. Now you have bombings, assassinations and sabotage that make any lasting peace… difficult. Your only chance of ending it quickly and without bloodshed is to integrate humanity, just like the Elders proposed." I set down my glass. "But I don't have to tell you that. It's the very reason you are here." Yanaraah's face drooped at hearing my opinion.

"It's true, the attacks have strained the entire structure of ADVENT. I was told by my mother that she had no experience in dealing with this kind of rebellion before; never has there been uprisings or resistance against the Elders. But she also said that they will retaliate against every terrorist attack with force, and that it will soon be over."

"Hmm… and when did she say that it would be soon over?"

The Viper's hood retracted almost completely as her expressions darkened. "… maybe six or seven years ago?" she whispered.

It's an unpleasant truth. This conflict will not end tomorrow.

"Perhaps we should talk about next week and the events you have to attend to." I broke the silence.

I activated my smartwatch and displayed the schedule for the coming days, the long list of work piling up in blue letters on my wrist.

"On Monday you will be up in the studios, giving an interview about your rescue by ADVENT and your work in City 11. Tuesday is a meet and greet in a local high school, Wednesday is your day off. Thursday has only a meeting with the mayor and some other officials in the city. Friday is free again, and Saturday has no plans yet but will probably be filled out. Glad you guys do nothing on Sundays."

Only we both had the plans for her meetings and the exact time when we departed or arrived at our destinations. The locations have been instructed to not give any details about Yanaraah's schedule to anyone except their highest executives, even when it was unlikely that any of them were involved with the traitor. If my plan worked, and with a little bit of luck, I would catch the mole soon.

"So much to do, and it's Saturday already… That reminds me, I wanted to go shopping tomorrow… I didn't finish the last time because, you know, getting kidnapped and all that." Her claws tapped together as she talked. "It's a rare occasion for me to do so, and I could finally leave these rooms for once."

"Shopping on a Sunday? How would that work?" I reminded her.

"Oh… that's not a problem. I can always book a private opening of the stores for us. I just have to make the call. So… what do you say?"

"You haven't asked me anything yet. What is your question?" I returned.

"I uhm… if it's okay to go out shopping?"

"Well, of course it is. You're the boss, not me. I will make sure we can keep the safety assured and nobody else knows about your shopping tour." I answered.

The corners of her maw pulled up her smile until dozens of teeth could be seen in the gap between her thin, scaly lips. I knew she direly needed a change of scenery, even if it was just for a couple of hours.

"Really? Just like that? Oh, I… Thank you! I was growing mad in here. I promise we won't take long. Oh, and we can look for some clothes for you too!" she rejoiced.

"Was asking for these excursions a problem before? Why do you even have to ask? You are royalty."

"I'm at risk at all times, and I had to get permission from my mother until I was an adult. I thought it would get easier, but then I had to ask the ADVENT officer who was in charge of my security, and he was a lot stricter. He needed a couple of days to ensure safety, but you see how that ended up last time."

So, the time of ensuring safety gave XCOM the window of opportunity to prepare an ambush. How ironic. This need for preparation is probably in ADVENT playbook for safety measurements, but it was a weakness the enemy could exploit easily — even more so once they have a mole inside, like in our case.

"I don't see a problem with shopping, especially on a Sunday in an empty store. We just secure the entrance, the surrounding area, notify the police beforehand and we should be good. Don't think I need that much in terms of clothing; I just filled my apartment with everything I'll ever need."

"Nothing? You just want to stay with your boots, those cargo pants and jackets?"

"I see nothing wrong with it."

"Well, then you haven't tried wearing a well-tailored suit — or maybe we get you some modern lining pants! I bet you would look great with a hat too!" She said.

"We'll see about that. I'm there for your safety first and foremost. That little tour might be an excellent opportunity to check out our destinations for next week afterwards."

"Well, can't say I'm looking forward to any of these." Yanaraah groaned, stretching out her arms.

"At least the school will be fun. Dozens of little brats running around, poking your scales and stepping on your tail." I teased.

"Well, it's a high school, so I doubt they will be this curious. Humans are young adults at that point, aren't they?" she asked.

"Heh, kind of. You will be mostly gawked at by teens then, don't know if that's better."

The Viper changed her posture and was now laying on her side. She put her elbow against the cushion underneath her and lazily put her head on the pried-up hand. Her heavy breasts were threatening to fall out of her silky attire as Yanaraah's entire body shifted, her heavy tail slowly creeping up on the couch and coiling around some pillows.

"And why is that, then?" she asked, her voice faking ignorance.

I took another swig from the glass, not falling for her ploy. "Oh, I think you know why."

"No, tell me Julius; Why would pubescent boys be gawking at me?" a mischievous giggle escaped her.

"Didn't you just tell me that most humans are afraid of you?"

She slowly shook her head. "Only the older generations, particularly those that were fighting us during the liberation. The young ones are just curious, often gets them in trouble with the guards."

"Ah, so I'm the old one?" I crossed my arms and squinted my eyes.

"Only if you feel addressed when I say older generations. But you have fought against us, therefore you probably know what we are capable of." She said and continued in a more serious tone; "That's why I was so surprised when you were the one who rescued me."

I thought back to all my service years and how everything started, How I got to this point of my life, and what I have forgotten on the way. Or wished to forget.

"Well, I've seen a lot. That's correct, but never a Viper like you. I missed out on a lot too, though. When the Invas- Liberation began, I wasn't even in the U.S. or near any of your primary targets in Europe or Asia. It took me and my team ten days to get back here, and by then, it was almost too late. The fight continued for some months and weeks, before it was truly over, and you know the rest."

"Where have you been, if not here?" Her eyes widened in anticipation. "I actually tried to find out more about the CIA and your past, but it's just like you said; there is nothing left. What was it like?"

My fingers trailed thoughtlessly around the rim of my glass. The missions I did in the past weren't something I really wanted to talk about, but her curious look pleaded for an answer. She wanted to know about me, and not for the reasons I'm used to. Her intention was just genuine interest, trying to find out who I am and not handing me out to someone.

Do I have to be careful? Can I talk about it? She's a friend, isn't she? What will she think of me once she knows what I did?

"I wasn't in the U.S. Let's leave it at that." I mumbled. I was not ready for this conversation.

"Oh… okay..." the disappointed Viper muttered. "You never talked about it, so I wondered if you…"

"It's nothing I want to talk about right now. With anyone." I cut her off.

"I won't judge you for anything, you know? I know you were involved in bad things. I just think that talking about them is better than letting it eat you from the inside. I can see it weighing you down."

If she'd only knew what exactly is weighing me down… no, I can't have this tonight.

"Maybe… but not today. It's not the right time or the right place for that." I said. "How about I show you what I brought back from outside instead?"

"You want to show me your stuff? I always wanted to know what you were bringing in here with all those crates."

My attempt to get her mood back up was a success, and she unravelled her coils in excitement. She graciously heaved herself up from her lying position without using her hands. Every movement of hers was this fluid dance of muscles that was impossible to ignore.

"Are you coming?" she asked, already slithering towards the door when I struggled to look away from her winding tail.

"Uh, yeah." I said and picked up both of our glasses and put them in the sink. "Wait for me, I don't want you to get buried under my boxes." I hurried after her.

We stopped at my door, the Kleondriz expectantly waiting for me to open it.

"Please don't be mad, but I might have miscalculated how much I had." I said, pressing the button next to me.

The room and its catastrophic state were revealed by the sliding door. Wooden crates, duffel bags with varying contents and heaps of packages piling up towards the high ceiling. A bunch of rifles and pistols decorated the kitchen table and leaned against the wall. I had put the bigger weapons with a tarp on the floor, some of them partly disassembled. The sofa was covered in jackets and vests, safe for the small spot I was sleeping on the last nights.

Yanaraah took in the chaos and the difference in our flats as she slowly slithered into my living room, the artificial canyon between the crates and weaponry being barely broad enough for her tail to move past.

"By the Elders, this is all yours?!" she said, her maw staying slightly open after her rhetoric question. "Why would you need all that?!" She inspected all the tools of destruction around her.

"It's everything I acquired over the years. The crates over there are platinum plates, the pile next to you has parts and equipment and the ones in the kitchen area are full of anything edible... should have thrown away those in hindsight, it's not like I will starve here... But don't worry about them. I will tidy up as well as I can and get something to store away my ammunition safely."

"Ammunition? How much to you have brought in here?" She immediately asked.

I gestured her to the bedroom and followed the Serpent into my temporary ammo storage. Dozens of green metal boxes filled with belts or loose bullets of varying calibres were neatly stacked inside and in front of the massive wardrobe. The rest of my rounds, especially the smaller ones, were stored inside bags, buckets, and crates around and on the wide bed. Luckily, my explosives were out of sight underneath the mattress and the wooden bed frame.

"You told me you would bring some equipment, but never said it was going to be an entire ammunition depot!" The Princess hissed under her breath and gave me a fiery look.

"I will order some fireproof cabinets and see what else I can find for this." I calmed her down, scratching the back of my head.

She pointed at the bed and its unused covers and pillows. "Where did you even sleep? In the bathtub?"

"The couch." I corrected her.

She shook her head and trailed back to the living room, saving herself from a look into the bathroom.

"I see that I still have to get the survivalist out of your mind." She said, eyeing the couch. She crossed her arms and nudged at the spot I have been sleeping the last couple of days. "But that wasn't what you wanted to show me, is it?"

"Oh, right…" I carefully stepped over her and grabbed one of the many shotguns next to the couch. "Here, look what I retrieved on my first tour." I said, handing her the SPAS-12 I had recovered from where we fought off the chrysalids. "It's still in good shape, apart from some scratches."

Yanaraah hesitantly grabbed the sleek black heat shield, taking the gun from my hands and inspecting it. The dark finish on the tube and perforated steel has been riddled with deep, silver-lined scars. The weapon also lost its shoulder strap, and the snap hooks rattled as the Viper turned the weapon upside down.

"Where did you find- oh right, you already said that… What shall I do with this?" she said, her eyes darting between me and the gun with a confused look.

"I don't know, but it's yours." I said, brushing over the punished surface of the old gun. "Load it and hide it under your pillows, stash it in your wardrobe, hang it on your wall, whatever you like the most. But you should keep it, even as just a souvenir, especially since these are quite rare. This was your first gun, might bring you luck."

"Luck?" Her scaled eyebrows raised higher as she glanced back at me. "I didn't know weapons can bring you luck. Hey, what's that?"

One of her claws pointed at a freshly engraved name on the receiver of the shotgun. Four simple letters in cursive and elegant scripture glittered in metallic gloss.

"Yeah, I had a bit of time yesterday. You like it?"

"K-l-e-o…" she read out loud, and it dawned on her what that short name stood for. "That's your nickname for me? Kleo?"

"Well, is it better or worse than calling you Princess, Princess?" I said with a smirk. "It's my gift to you, in honour of our new… friendship."

"Kleo… I think I could get used to this. Thanks, although I'm not sure where I will keep this. Those letters look marvellous. How did you do that?" She said, trailing over the silver lining of the e and o with awe.

"I learned some obscure hobbies to pass the years. I can wield, stamp and engrave, even have most of the tools for it. You don't know how bored I was sometimes."

"So instead of tidying up your flat, you engraved the first gun I ever used?" She quipped.

"I think we both have some cleaning to do."

She furrowed her brows at my snarky comment, but she relaxed once she realised how her flat must have looked like to me.

"Hmph. Yeah, I really should get the clothes washed and dust off some furniture... I will find a suitable spot for this one while doing so," she said while drumming her claws on the shotgun. "But what is that?" She nudged her head towards the two briefcases and my backpack leaning against the far end of the sofa. "They seem out of place here. What's in there?"

"Oh, the briefcases… I might need them later. Nothing fancy about them, really. The bag, however."

I reached over the couch and grabbed the backpack. My belongings inside clattered and rustled as I opened the zipper and revealed the contents to the curious alien.

"It's what I have left from before the liberation. It's not much, but it helps as a reminder of simpler times. You wanted to get to know me, didn't you?"

My hands reached inside and pulled out a brown paper folder while I circled around the cosy furniture, and I sat down on the far corner of the couch with a place to spare.

"This is your chance then." I said, patting the empty space next to me.

The Viper's crimson eyes widened, and she hurried towards me, crashing on the couch with little concern about the empty plate carriers. She realised that her hands still held to the black shotgun, so the Serpent put it down next to her coils and waited for me to continue like a child waiting for someone to read a goodnight story. I handed her the first black-and-white photo I pulled out of the envelope. A middle-aged man with rash eyes and short hair grinned into the camera. His simple suit and cocky altitude gave him the aura of sly and reckless one, his eyes glinting with smugness. Yanaraah surveyed it, her claws carefully holding the picture close to her snout.

"Wow, I didn't know you had a moustache, but why is it with no colour?"

"That's my father." I snickered. She squinted her eyes, and the slitted pupils tried to make out the difference between the picture and the man she was sitting next to.

"Oh… your resemblance to your father is… uncanny." She remarked.

"The curse of getting older, I guess. Do Vipers not resemble their parents? You and your mother look very much alike."

"Yes, we do… What did your father do again? He was a soldier, wasn't he?"

"He was pilot for the Air Force. There were some airfields that belonged to the U.S. in Germany, that's how he met my mother."

I handed her the next photo, with a set of girls sitting at a kids' table with a considerably younger boy. A small cake was sitting in the middle, candles lit and snacks placed around it.

"Those are my sisters with me. It must have been my twelfth or thirteenth birthday, I think. Mother forgot to write the date on the backside. And here is my last day at school." I said, handing another picture.

She chortled at the sight of an awkwardly smiling young man with shoulder length black dyed hair.

"Hah, what happened to you there?" She began teasing. "I never would have thought you've gone through such a phase!" She took the picture closer to her eyes and laughed again. "I need a copy of that one!"

"That's easy to say coming from you. I can imagine how you looked during your teenage years. Bet you had braces for your fangs." I smiled back at her.

She tipped her index at her head and raised a scaled eyebrow. "Yeah, sure. With that look of yours, I don't want to know what kind of music you listened to."

Her words reminded me of what else was in my backpack, and I snipped my fingers at her in eagerness. I pulled out my old Walkman and several labelled cassettes — some with simply recorded songs that were popular on the radio, some obscure metal bands, and even classic rock from the seventies. It was still in working condition after all these years, despite the cassette tray being cracked and some buttons becoming loose. I presented my treasure to the confused Kleo, unsure of what I was holding in her face, until I pulled out a pair of in-ear headphones.

"Oh, you actually have music with you? And that thing works?" She asked, inspecting the cassettes with doubt. "What is it with humans and music? You really can't live without it, can you?"

"Would be really boring without it. Also, those that don't like music are just the ones that haven't found their type yet. You want to hear it?"

"We could just hear music from the TV channels. They always have something playing there. Why use this old junk?"

"That's not junk." I replied, hurt by her disinterest. "These might be the last copies of the songs before the liberation."

Kleo suddenly pushed back my hand holding out the Walkman. "Julius… this is not legal — that type of media has been banned for years. We can't listen to this, and just owning it is considered an offense. You should get rid of it."

"Oh c'mon, you always talk about how you learned everything about humans, and you're telling me you're not curious? Besides, on our way back to LA we sang some songs that were much worse than what I have in my hands here."

"Worse?" she asked, her tongue hanging out like dead as I caught her off guard with my implication. "What did we sing exactly? You told me what the songs were about but not what the lyrics mean!"

"Relax, I'm just kidding, I didn't make you sing anything shabby, and these here," I waved the Walkman towards her, "are absolutely harmless."

"I don't know about this; they were probably all labelled as unwanted… "

"Yeah, and it's stupid. What harm can come from some music? I know you want to find out what the humans were listening to." I said, aiming at her curiosity.

She hesitantly grabbed one of the in-ear plugs and held it close to her temple, where her opening for hearing was.

I pressed the play-button, and the cassette labelled 60s-70s inside began to spin and rattle. The small apparatus played the middle part of Space Oddity, its slow melody echoing from the dangling, unused earplug next to her. She slowly warmed up the song, trying to understand what it was about and what was happening. The song quickly ended, and the iconic start of I Can't Get No with its fast beats overwhelmed the Viper that was about to say something. Instead, she listened closely again, fascinated by the melody.

I patiently waited for the song to end and paused the device, leaving her with her impressions alone for a moment.

"So, what do you think?" I asked the awestruck Kleo.

The Serpent recollected herself and blinked at me when she realised the Walkman has been halted.

"Oh, it's… hard to describe. Those songs are unlike anything I have ever heard yet… could you… start it again?"

I smiled at her confession, turning down the volume a bit and starting the cassette once more. By now she had secured the plug I gave her inside her hearing, her free hands now occupied with my pictures again.

"These pics were still in Germany, mind you. When I graduated and was about to study at a university, we moved to the U.S. So, I attended college." I said, handing her the next picture of my first day in the U.S.

"When did you join the CIA, then? I thought college graduation takes a couple of years?" She asked.

"I stopped going to college after a year. It was way too expensive, and studying law wasn't really that interesting. Instead, I joined the army;" Another picture showed younger me in uniform hiking through a forest with a colossal backpack. "And you don't get to just join the CIA. You have to prove yourself first and get chosen."

The sixth picture depicted me and some soldiers of my former unit, each and everyone wearing sunglasses and leaning against the HUMVEE we used for patrol, the spray-paint of a skull decorating the driver's door. The sand has washed away the ochre paint on several spots of the heavy vehicle, and I remembered the amount of dirt we got blown into our faces once the wind picked up.

"Where was that?" She immediately asked.

"That's Iraq, during 2008 or 2009. My first war. Most of the time we were cleaning up or searching houses, though. I was with the Rangers back then, and the CIA approached me after I was done with my first tour to Afghanistan. I didn't want to at first, but the thought of being with an elite unit pulled me in."

My fingers trailed along the photos' edge, sightly crinkling the paper.

Some men I met during my time in the army were the best friends I ever had, and they all were surely dead. All that's left is this picture. And me. If I hadn't joined the CIA, I would have been dead too, yet I don't know if that would have been worse.

A claw poking my shoulder got me back from my thoughts.

"What happened then?"

"Well, I joined, obviously. I'll tell you the rest another day." I said, quickly gathering back the pictures and putting them back into the envelope. I would not delve further into who and what I was, no matter how much she would ask me. Kleo gave me a disappointed look. Clearly, she expected more from me and my history. Why was she this interested in my past anyway?

Much to my discontent, a seventh picture fell out of the folder I was holding, and the curious Princess caught it mid-air. She inspected it with darting eyes until her hood retracted and her face drooped.

From all photos that could have fallen into her hands, it had to be the worst one I could think of. Just from the backside and the scribbled date 22.06.2015 I knew what the picture showed: half a dozen men standing around the smoking pile of a city, with sand piling up between the buildings. Every lamppost was decorated with a dangling corpse, and fire was spewing from destroyed cars behind us.

Us.

All the men and I had black bars censoring our faces, and nobody was wearing visible badges or insignia. No flags. No hints to identity. Yet I knew she would recognise me standing on the far left. It was the only picture I had of my unit.

I snatched back the picture, stuffing it back into the envelope. Her eyes gave me a startled, confused look, with thousands of questions flickering behind them. But there was something else… understanding… and sadness in her mien.

"That was just before the Liberation, wasn't it?" She quietly asked as I threw the pics on the coffee table.

"It's late, and we both should go to bed." I concluded hastily while raising from the couch, avoiding her question.

"I didn't want to, you know… push you there. I know you hate that topic, but we can talk about it whenever you like."

"I will tell you about it, but not today."

She grabbed the waiting gun next to her and was about to turn around when the plug in her "ear" pulled the Walkman towards her, the grey box dangling and swinging in the air next to her hips.

"Oh, I forgot." Kleo caught the device and pulled the plug from her head, handing back my property. "Here, I didn't want to steal it from you." She said with a faint smile.

"You know what? Keep it. And the cassettes," I said, while handing her the other tapes.

"I don't know if I should…" She tried to dismiss my present, but the glint in her eye betrayed her; She liked what she heard and wanted more.

"I insist. See it as a studying tool for your unification efforts." I joked half-heartedly, and I was glad she didn't pry at my past again.

With a slight bow of her head, she accepted and put the cassettes with the Walkman into a pocket of her robe I didn't see before. Just as she was about to exit my flat, her head spun around and she flicked her tongue at me again.

"I see you tomorrow."

Earlier the same evening, at the City 11 Police Headquarters…

Wilson barged into the secluded office he and his partner were using, holding up two cups of coffee. At first, he thought he was alone and just missed Harris walking out of the room, but then he spotted the curly hair of his partner behind one of the computer screens, the blue tint of the monitor reflecting from his pale face as Wilson strolled towards the other detective who took no notice of his presence.

"Here," He said, putting the cup for Harris on his desk. "Thought you might want some caffeine."

His sudden appearance startled the senior detective, spilling the coffee over his desk as he clumsily reached for it.

"Ah fuck!" he swore as the burning hot contents sploshed on his pants and the keyboard of his PC. The burning sensation of the hot beverage quickly disappeared, leaving a damp spot on his grey trousers.

"God damnit Andrew." Wilson scolded. "What's the matter with you?"

Wilson reached for some cleaning wraps and quickly soaked up the brown flooding on his Partner's desk, handing him the roll of the paper towels afterwards. He sat down on the desk next to him, noticing the security footage on Harris' monitor playing back and forth, his little red book laying just in front of it.

"Hey have you heard? They found and rescued the missing Official — it really was a Viper, like you said. Some higher figure from their ranks, apparently the actual ambassador."

"I've been waiting all day for the results…" Harris said, completely ignoring the news Wilson told him. "That damn lab needs ages for those probes. They never take this long; it's been almost a week!" he burst out, trying to dry up his accident. Harris gave up and threw the towels and unused roll into the bin next to him as he got up to leave for the bathroom.

He opened the door, stomping to the restrooms, passing by the secretary who placed the office mail on Wilson's desk.

"Is Harris okay?" The woman asked the younger detective, who gave her a wink as she gave him the letters and a nice view of her cleavage. It was an open secret within the department that the two met outside work once or twice a week.

"He's frustrated, that's all. The recent case got to him because of the kid."

"Anything new yet?" The secretary walked towards the whiteboard of the current case and inspected the attached photographs, documents, and notes, all leading to a picture of the suspect in the middle.

"No, nothing. That guy really knew how to leave no trace…" He said nonchalantly as he read the senders and receivers, most of the white envelopes landing on Harris' desk. But then he stopped at the brown package between the letters, noticing the ADVENT symbol as the sole sign of where it came from.

"Becky, when did this one arrive?" He asked his co-worker with benefits, waving the package back and forth to get her attention.

"Oh, it just dropped by, came by courier."

Wilson wasted no time and opened it, and an entire heap of folders and dossiers spilled out of the package, each of them labelled with their case number.

"What the…" he said, stopping the mass of paper from falling to the ground with both his arms.

Just then, detective Harris returned, the stain on his thigh being larger than before. He noticed the documents piling up between Wilson's arms, all three of them exchanging confused looks.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Think so. Explains why they took their sweet time with it." Wilson answered.

"Becky, we might need a bit of your time." Harris commanded with a polite undertone, rushing back to his chair and spinning it to face the overloaded Wilson. He and the Secretary took a dozen files from the younger detective's desk, skimming through them and trying to sort what could be sorted. Soon enough they freed Wilson's arms, and he joined their effort to bring order to the mess.

Most of the Dossiers were unfinished or contained so little information that they piled them up next to the garbage bin, while the rest of the documents comprised unsolved cases, reports, or un-identified traces — all sharing the same DNA on the crime scenes, but missing the corpse or the identity every time. Some other dossiers had no pictures and were simply made from what data was entered in computers or scanners nearby; every time they would read a new name.

"Its all the same man…" Becky remarked. "He somehow gets past the scanners and automated systems…"

"These are all DNA traces from 2022 onwards, some fresher, some older… our suspect has been very active…" Harris said more to himself than to his co-workers.

"He's got creative over the years… look at those names." Wilson said.

"Noriel de Falco, Jules Wright, Olcan Demas, John Raiff, Timothy Smith, Markus von Kladdeheim… this guy probably changes his name more often than his underwear." Harris grabbed his red book as he noticed the diversity in names. "… and not only does he change names, but he also changes the entire background. He uses different nationalities." He concluded while taking notes. "Clever bastard."

"Here… double murder, three years ago. There were never any arrests." Becky handed over a file, this time with a picture attached to it. A blurry figure with a coat and sunglasses walked past an alley, the security camera hanging high above and not having a good angle on the man.

Harris flipped through the case multiple times, trying to find more clues, looking at the footage again and comparing it to the video of the Hotel lobby that was still repeating on his PC monitor.

"That's him, no doubt." He confirmed. "Why has nobody made any connection between all those cases yet?"

"There were a couple of years between them every time, at least the murders. The rest is petty stuff like smuggling or the same fingerprints popping up at unrelated crime scenes." Wilson added.

"Now that we have a trace, we can finally start with the investigation. Becky, I need you to dig up the cases I'll deem interesting. They must have missed something. Wilson, you go to the alley. This picture was taken and look around. We might find somebody who saw or heard something all these years ago."

Harris turned around, eager to begin, as his computer screen suddenly turned black.

"Oh Christ, not now." He grumbled. He wanted to start his desktop again as he noticed Wilson's PC also having shut down by a very suspicious coincidence. The devices seem to still be running, so somebody must have forced the system to disconnect from the screens. Harris knew what this meant, and he was fuming silently at the child lock, as the department called it.

"Detectives Harris and Wilson; please see the chief."

Both Detectives exchanged glances at each other as the female voice of the intercom said their names. Rebecca nodded to them as she quickly gathered the files and dossiers together again.

"Go on, Ill tend to this mess. Whatever the chief got must be important if he locks you out of your computers." She said.

Harris hurried to the door with a groan, Wilson following close by. They passed by the mostly abandoned cubicles of their office, Saturday evening being a very busy day and therefore needed a lot of officers on the streets or at events. Harris hesitated at the chief's door, his hand hovering over the handle until Wilson was next to him.

"Come in." was heard from the inside, the chief probably watching the cameras next to his door.

Both of them entered quickly, shutting the door behind them. The chief was the oldest detective in the department, with Harris being the second most experienced. His grey hair was leaving his head in droves, and Wilson called him the plucked rooster when he was sure that the chief couldn't listen. He had the aura of an all-seeing entity, mainly because of the set of monitors next to his PC that watched over the entire building in real time. But when the detectives entered, he shut them off — if that was for politeness or security reasons was up to debate.

"Seat yourself." The Chief said, scratching his cheek and the stubbles growing out of them.

"What's going on Richard? We were just about to get our teeth into the Hotel case." Harris said, being the only detective in the entire department that could call the chief with his first name and not getting fired for it.

"Yeah, about that…" the chief said, forming a triangle with his hands on the table. "The case will be closed."

"What?! Why?!" both detectives inquired simultaneously, looking at each other and the chief with disbelief.

"I have no saying in it," the old man said, his Texan accent coming through. "The Viper Embassy called for a halt of investigation and says the case has been solved. Apparently, the culprit was killed during the rescue of the Viper Ambassador. Now the entire thing is classified and under the directory of the ADVENT intelligence service." He explained to his best men.

"How can they be certain? Is there a death certificate? An autopsy?" Harris continued, only to be halted by the chief raising his hand.

"Like I said, classified. I wasn't told anything other than what I already said. You will both hand over the case to the ADVENT intelligence tomorrow. They say that the Ambassador will meet all the detectives, deputies and personnel involved with the search, and recommended those lucky few for a promotion. So, cheer up a little, you both will soon outrank anyone but me in this building."

Harris wasn't cheery in the slightest, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the wet fabric of his pants. He forced himself to stand up and go before shouting something at his superior that he might regret later. "Thank you, Sir." He said through his grinding teeth and left the room without looking back. The door slammed shut as Harris dashed through the empty hallway, grabbing his beige trench coat on the way and fumbling with the keys for his car out of the pockets.

The chief and Wilson both fell silent after Harris' outburst, watching the closed door for a moment and listening to the angry stomp of his soles growing quieter.

"I did not expect that." The chief remarked, standing up from his office chair. "Normally you're the one with the temper, detective Wilson."

"He's frustrated, that's all. He'll calm down after a weekend with his family. By the way, when will we meet this Viper ambassador?" Wilson asked. "I heard she is real eye candy…"

The chief narrowed his eyes at the suspiciously eager detective.

"I mean, she is, uhm, real charming…"