~*~Aftershocks: Chapter Three- The Call of Ganymede~*~
~Silverium~
Disclaimer: Epic Megagames is the owner of OMF 2097, not me, much to my dismay.
The phone dropped with a light click and the crimson-haired ex-pilot exhaled slowly in means to calm himself. Crystal taking him to Ganymede? Wasn't it bad enough that his friend was the President? Did he really have to face what he had failed at, see everything he could have had? And the job, what of that? He knew he had it in his grasp, why would they have someone replace him when he knew everything? Crystal didn't understand, they never let the smart ones go.
"Milano."
The name was a barrier for him, it was the wall that stood between parallel dimensions, one where he could have been the president for WAR, and this life where he was reduced to a normal civilian.
"I need the job." Jean-Paul frowned at his admission to the truth.
He went to his bedroom to pack a small bag, only the necessities, for he didn't know how long he would be staying there. Back in the kitchen he arranged to have his Shadow taken up with him, perhaps it would be useful later on.
At the shuttle port he could see Crystal, dressed in a dark blue business suit with a skirt just above her knees and a severe expression on her face as she ordered a man "To use the utmost caution." For what, Jean-Paul was about to find out. It didn't take him long, he could see Crystal's Jaguar being prepared to be shot into space.
"Jean-Paul," She called, spotting him as he neared, she looked around and then tilted her head, "I'm surprised you came,"
He shrugged, not bothering to give her a reply, "Why the Jag?"
Now it was her turn to give a quirk of her shoulders, "Might come in handy,"
"I see."
They walked to the waiting room where their passes were scanned and they were allowed to trail from one line to the next. Crystal seemed bored with each transition, but Jean-Paul looked his usual apathetic self. Underneath his expressionless face he was calculating as always.
As they headed towards the moon in the shuttle Jean-Paul studied Crystal as she looked out the window. She was tense, on-edge, and Jean-Paul wondered if it were because she was going to rise up against Milano. He knew her plan, it was a system of favours, she brought Jean-Paul back to Milano, guaranteeing him the prized worker back, and in return he helped her figure out what happened to her parents. Simple. Milano wouldn't care.
The intercom sprang alive, telling them they were about to dock. Crystal and Jean-Paul rose in unison to grab their overhead bags from the aisles. As the shuttle slid into its port there was a rough docking, sending Crystal off-balance. Having already grabbed the handle to the overhead compartments, Jean-Paul only swayed slightly, but his reflexes kicked in immediately and he caught Crystal as she fumbled. The docking took unimaginably long, and Jean-Paul stood stoically throughout it all with one arm up holding the handle, and the other wrapped around Crystal who was no doubt fuming over everything.
When the ship stilled they broke apart wordlessly and drifted off the shuttle in total silence. Jean-Paul looked around the hallways as they strode down them, all silver-walled with consol panels dotting them every five feet or so. Opening up to a wide room with a dark crimson carpet, several black couches and chairs, potted plants with vibrant green leaves, the mint eyes of Jean-Paul settled on a semi-circle of men, one in the middle wearing a fancy black suit with gold buttons and a medallion. Well, well.
"Jean-Paul, Ms. Devroe." Milano greeted, dark eyes scanning them.
He was no doubt wondering what Jean-Paul was doing with Crystal, or the other way around. The two didn't like each other. Barely any of the pilots that had been in the tournament liked each other.
"I was alerted to your coming, what might I do for you?" Milano asked, eyes on Jean-Paul,
"Business proposition."
"I see, come to my office." Milano whisked them away with the beckoning of a finger.
It was amazing, with only a week Milano had changed everything so dramatically. It was pure genius, Jean-Paul could attest to that, which led Milano to the role of president in that short time. Genius, and remarkable timing.
The output of HARs had doubled in short time as Milano used the natural resources of the colonized planet. The wealthy president led them into a labyrinth of corridors until they stopped at a pair of large obsidian doors,
"Ms. Devroe, please, have a seat, Jean-Paul and I will not be long," Milano's dark eyes studied her,
Crystal had stiffened as soon as she had seen him, but she wordlessly dropped into a series of chairs that lined one of the walls. The men following Milano split into two, half staying, half continuing to trace their president's path.
The office was massive and ornately done up. Jean-Paul wasn't impressed by the show of riches, he didn't care for such things. The mahogany desk stretched for ten feet and sported two computers and an endless pile of papers and disks, scattered pens and other things. Milano swept it all to one side with a careless flick of his arm, he sat and pulled out a file from his drawer, then indicated for Jean-Paul to do the same,
"You want your job back," He stated,
"Yes,"
"You left it for training, am I right? You took several years off…life…to train for the tournament," Milano studied a file briefly.
No reply, Jean-Paul was gazing at Milano and scrutinizing him. Milano sighed and dropped the file, "Why are you really here? You know the job is yours, we can't let—"
"People who know so much get loose," Jean-Paul finished,
Milano nodded, "So? Why are you here?"
"Crystal wants to know the truth of her parents,"
"So you escorted her? Hardly your type of thing to do," Milano said incredulously, "why do you care?"
"I don't," the automatic reply slid of Jean-Paul's tongue,
"Then…?" Milano frowned at the crimson-haired man,
"She brought me, as a favour to you," Jean-Paul replied,
"I see. Ms. Devroe is nothing but trouble, why do you bother with her?"
"She has spirit." Jean-Paul's gaze turned away as he studied the wall, covered in awards, pictures and other plaques, "She wants me to live,"
"You can only live inside your Shadow," Milano said, his voice considerably softer, "I noticed you brought it with you. Ms. Devroe brought her Jag,"
"Crystal,"
Milano looked at him steadily, "Crystal, then."
Milano stood up and remained deep in thought for a moment. A spark lit in his coal-coloured eyes and then a tiny smile crossed his face, "She wants you to live, she wants to find out why her parents died, you want to have your job back, tell me, Jean-Paul, do you want to live?"
"It is impossible," The flat reply echoed in his mind,
"Call in Ms. Devroe!" Milano ordered swiftly.
