Millie let out an unpleasant, unladylike grunt after greedily drinking some bottled water she was smart enough to bring along on this ill-conceived journey of hers. The scorching sun's heat amidst this rust red wasteland was unbearable.
Merely thirty minutes ago she had departed from the fortified settlement of Alice Springs - after enlisting the assistance of a local guide, who had demanded quite a hefty sum for his aid.
Upon being paid, the rough man with a wild haircut had promptly invited her into his ramshackle vehicle - a refurbished, bare-bones jeep without the roof and with some scrap metal acting as both doors and, apparently, makeshift armor. A small-caliber machine gun was attached to the passenger's side of the hood, at which Millie now stared dejectedly.
Does he need to use that often..? Fuck me…
An explosion in the distance shook the woman out of her depressed musings, making her spring in her seat and let out a frightened yelp of surprise. Looking at the source of disturbance, Millie couldn't help but gasp.
In the distance, a number of buggies, that appeared even more shoddy than the one she rode in herself, was visible - as was the enormous dust cloud they were leaving behind. The buggies were painted a menacing shade of red, and the savagely-dressed passengers clearly had a fetish for spikes...and guns.
The lead vehicle, bigger and spikier than the rest, was equipped with what appeared to be a rocket launcher, its gunner firing it wildly into the nearby elevation.
Another booming explosive, as well as howling laughter of the savages reached the dark-haired woman, making her shrivel in fright. Playing with her metal pen with her fingers, Millie for once did not get reassured by the inconspicuous but deadly object. The rockets and guns the brutes in the distance wielded were indubiously deadlier.
Sensing her distress, the guide - Quinn, as he introduced himself - laughed mirthfully, before speaking in his incredibly thick Australian accent, which the woman had to struggle to comprehend.
"No wukkas, mate! These are Warlord Warg' lot - just celebrating their great victory over the muties in '20."
A hearty pat on her shoulder almost made the woman hit the machine gun that was in her face, with her face. Growling in both indignity and fear, the woman hissed out a swift retort, even as she leaned back in her smelly and flea-eaten seat.
"Is that supposed to reassure me? What's stopping them from just filling us full of bullets and rockets?"
The admittedly handsome, in a roguish kind of way, guide just smirked, before explaining. "Warg is a reasonable, if a bit crazy one. Alice Springs have an agreement with him, and he respected it - so far. We provide them with an occasional tribute of food and scrap, and they protect us from the roaming muties, as well as the other...less savory gangs."
The man's face turned harsh, as he continued. "Now, if you see a toxic-green colored vehicle… that'll mean trouble. Zoggosh the Pillager's mutie tribe caused us no shortage of troubles with their erratic raids - that lot ain't got any respect for us 'smoothskins'. Ain't no reasoning with them either, except with the business end of that little thing you're looking at. " Quinn aimed his gaze at the machine gun, as he spoke, making the shorter woman gulp. "That said… they do not show their ugly gobs around here too often, not after the beating we gave their sorry arses in '21."
Millie's short stay in Alice Springs had demonstrated her two things about the few inhabitants that remained there - they were stubborn and hardy. And now, she couldn't help but mentally call them foolhardy.
Why the hell would anyone sane live here… Jesus Christ.
Before too long, the procession of crimson buggies accelerated, leaving nothing but dust and vulgar gestures for the pair to look at. Millie merely sighed in relief - she was not looking for conflict here, just her foolish father.
Why the hell would HE settle here? Goddamn it!
Several more minutes passed, as their ride bumped across every fucking stone that was in the way, making the woman grit her teeth in silent frustration. The searing sun was not doing her pale complexion any favors. Bored and annoyed, the woman pondered upon the sorry state of this land to kill some time.
The outbreak of 2017, dubbed 'Red Scourge' for its initial symptoms - reddening of the skin, ravaged much of inland Australia, leaving more than a million dead and several more infected. Those closest to the several hotspots that occurred suffered the worst - becoming afflicted with severe deformities, with heightened aggression and diminished higher brain functions to boot. Coastal areas were less affected, as salty ocean air proved an effective deterrent against this particular strain of virus. To this day, nobody knew the exact culprit behind the calamity, yet the conspiracy theorists had their own say on the subject - as they always do.
Six years later, the majority of the unaffected population had retreated to settle near or inside the large coastal cities, where civilization still flourished and law and order existed. But this deep? Only an occasional fortified settlement was still standing, surrounded by nothing but mutant tribes and warring marauder gangs. The only law was the law of the strong.
Finally, the jeep reached what appeared to be a swampy, basin-like area - an oasis, in this sea of rusty sand. The car suddenly stopped; the woman, taken out of her musings sharply turned her gaze at the driver.
"What's the holdup?"
Quinn just shook his unshaved head, before pointing a single finger in the direction of the basin. "That's as far as she'll go, I am afraid. The rest of the way you'll have to cross on foot, by yourself. Catch you later, babe."
Millie could indeed recall that that was the agreement. With an unladylike curse, the woman jumped out of the jeep, slamming the door shut with all her might, in a childish effort to get back at the source of her ire.
Quinn just waved her a curt goodbye, before planting one hand on the wheel, while the other reached into his pocket - for a smoke. Without further ceremony, the jeep hit the reverse, before rotating around and driving the way it came from, leaving nothing but a dust cloud behind.
"I better have a nice fucking vacation after all of this… skiing maybe..? Skiing sounds nice after all this fucking heat." Millie angrily mumbled under her breath as she braved the swampy area, moving along a small path.
As she moved deeper inside the basin, a large mountain of scrap started becoming visible. Invigorated by her goal being in sight, the young woman increased her pace, only for her foot to sink into the suddenly treacherous, muddy ground.
Hissing in anger, Millie glanced around, coming to a curse-evoking realization - that the muddy water consumed the path ahead, completely. The mountain of scrap metal was an island, as it turned out. Gazing at the water accusingly, the black-haired woman jumped back in shock as something gazed back at her, or so she thought.
I am SO not swimming in this water… Fuck!
Fuming at one obstacle leading to the next, Millie started walking around the small circular path that her keen eyes spotted around the island.
After several minutes of careful steps, she came to a peculiar area. A series of large metal grates connected the island with the rest of the basin from this direction, allowing one to cross it relatively safely.
Not seeing any other way to access the cursed island, the woman shrugged her petite shoulders, before starting the crossing.
About half-way through the grates, Millie stopped dead in her tracks, as a violent sound suddenly assaulted her earbuds - hissing, as if a kettle was left on a stove for too long.
She didn't have to guess about the source of the ear-splitting noise, however, as a rather small rotary-aircraft plummeted down towards the metal scrapyard - exactly where she was going to, herself.
With wonder in her metal-gray eyes, Millie could only gape at the burning wreck, as it trailed inky black smoke into the air. Inspecting the aircraft further, the woman was astounded by the makeshift quality of it all - it was made almost literally of scrap - held together by duct tape and good intentions and Millie couldn't help but marvel at the fact that it was ever airborne in the first place.
Before too long, however, the woman gulped in fright as she noted the coloring of the vehicle - toxic green.
Shit… are these the unreasonable raider guys? Well… hopefully none of them made it through the crash…
Millie was not even surprised by her continuous ill fortune. She merely dejectedly stared ahead, as six figures crawled their way from the burning wreck, gaining some distance from it as it exploded in a violent manner - one propeller impaling one of the men right in the stomach, spilling blood and viscera everywhere as it carried itself and the struck man into the muddy waters, where they both promptly vanished.
The remaining five figures growled among each other, as they attempted to shake off their after-crash concussion. The black-haired woman took the time to inspect their horrifying frames, meanwhile.
They looked human enough - from a distance. Millie had to stifle a gasp of fright as she took in the grisly details. They were dressed in various dirty rags, haphazardly colored in that same toxic green color, as well. All of the men, if one could call these things 'men', had gruesome deformities.
The one unifying feature among the misshapen gang was that almost every inch of their skin was covered by vomit-inducing cancerous growths. In addition to that, the largest of them had a hilariously shrinked left arm, while its right one was utterly baffling in its enormity. Another creature had an oversized heart that was completely exposed to the elements, as it bursted from its own ribcage, presumably long ago. The last monster had a feeding tube instead of a mouth, and it was dripping some kind of disgusting greenish substance - acidic in nature, if the hissing sound as it fell to the metal-covered ground was any indication.
As the monsters finally regained their footing, the beast with the ridiculously asymmetrical arms roared in rage, making Millie cover her ears.
"FOKING WARG! RAAAAARGH!"
The act of moving her limbs around likely attracted their attention, however, and Millie could only curse as five pairs of cruel eyes locked upon her slight frame. Five and a half pairs. The monster with an exposed heart had three eyes - as Millie could see when it turned its horror-inducing mug in her direction.
"Aghh… smoothskin! Fresh meat, boys!"
The five freaks promptly started trudging her way, making the poor woman let out yet another curse, as she backed away, before offering a plea that she knew was useless.
"Wait! I just wanna pass to that island! Lemme go and we can all avoid the unpleasantness!"
The feeding-tube equipment monster hissed out something ineligible at her, while its slightly more human-like colleague muttered out a statement that chilled Millie's blood in her veins; its long, creepy-ass, snake-like tongue making threatening motions her way.
"The smoothskin's pale skin looks so tasty, my brothers… what a feast we shall have today!"
As the monsters intensified their pace, the black-haired woman took out her trusty pen and waved it around in a threatening display of her own.
"Stay back! I am armed!"
The beasts only laughed cruelly, as they aimed to surround her. Again, Millie could only curse as her pen failed to provide a proper statement. A trusty weapon for an infiltrator who wanted others to think her unarmed and harmless - exactly the kind of weapon that was useless in this situation. Should've brought a fucking shotgun!
Growling in defiance, Millie made the pen float in the air next to her, as its sharp titanium edge glinted in the searing sunlight.
Most sane humans would've at least paused in their aggression at such an otherworldly show of power, yet the monsters only continued their hyena-like howling laughter, as they advanced further yet.
In a display of startling speed that completely belied its brutish posture, the first mutant - without any unique features - rushed right at her, its claw-like nails ready to rip and tear.
Gritting her teeth, the woman dodged backwards. With a flick of her wrist, the titanium pen impaled itself right through the mutant's neck, going in all the way and then out, making a little circle around the now gurgling monster and returning to her side. The beast dumbly attempted to stem the gushing bleeding with its hands, as it stared at its own dark red blood, comprehension lacking in its dull grey eyes. Soon, the strength has left its limbs and the filthy thing collapsed in a heap of rags and blood.
As the first mutant fell, the rest only growled in vengeful rage. The leader-apparent with disproportionate arms roared a challenge, with spittle flying in every direction, some striking Millie's face - to her utter disgust.
"NO! YOU KILL MIKEY! YOU PAY!"
Before she could offer a response, the enormous right arm was poised to crush her like a grapefruit. Dodging the monstrously-muscular limb at the last possible millisecond, the woman found herself lying on the metal grating, even as the monster raised his appendage again - this time aiming for a killing blow.
Down but not out of the fight, the petite woman willed her writing implement to strike. To Millie's utmost shock, as she aimed to repeat the previous execution-style attack with her pen, the mutant somehow managed to grab her pen in midair with its shrunken arm that proved far more agile than its deformed appearance suggested.
Grinning a toothless sneer her way, the beast took the opportunity to gloat, even as it raised its huge arm high.
"ME NO DUMB LIKE MIKEY! YOU DIE NOW!"
In a desperate motion, using both of her arms to direct the magnetic fields to maximum effect her own limited inherited power allowed, Millie tore her pen from the shrunken hand's grasp, only to brutally drive it through the creature's eye, deep into the brain, and out the back of the skull.
With a gasp of disbelief, the brutish fiend fell dead, yet his comrades were still eager for her blood and Millie only barely rolled out of the way as the freak with an exposed heart leapt right on her.
With a self-satisfied smirk of her own, the small woman flung her pen right into his oversized organ, only to gape in astonishment, as the heart appeared none the worse for wear, even as it bleed a darkish liquid out. The monster grunted in pain, but remained standing. Millie was determined to remedy that issue, however, preparing to carve the organ up from the inside.
Ruining her plans, the next thing Millie felt was excruciating agony as the feeding-tube monstrosity got close enough to spit acid right at her exposed arm. Her pen, bereft of direction, fell from the heart, right through the metal grating - into the muddy water, out of reach.
Clutching her acid-burned arm, with tears flowing freely from her gray orbs, the prone form of Millie could only gaze in defiance as the three remaining aggressors surrounded her completely, cutting off any possible escape.
Unable to provide any meaningful resistance, the petite woman could only shiver in fright and disgust as the hideously long, snake-like tongue of the closest monster lapped around her pale neck.
The hissing sounds the monster made could barely be considered words. "So smooth… so delicious!"
"Oh God…" Millie closed her eyes, hoping for a quick end. The idea that the mutants would attempt to eat her alive was terrifying in the extreme.
Instead of further pain, however, what came next was a sound of metal screeching, followed by several yells and splashes of water.
Carefully opening one gray eye, Millie could only gasp in shock as the three metal grating segments where the mutants stood were now open, while the monsters themselves angrily swam around in the muddy water underneath - their grasping motions unable to reach the elevated grating. Mutant's curses and promises of dismemberment gave way to panicked screams as the most normal-looking of them suddenly vanished beneath the waters, only to be replaced by a bloody pool. Seconds later, the other two freaks met similar fate, as enormous jaws closed over their torsos, dragging them down to the depths of the muddy basin.
Panting from overuse of her powers, as well as near-death experience, Millie simply stared in befuddlement as distinctly crocodile-like silhouettes swam underneath her, before vanishing.
Adding to her confusion, the metal grates returned back to their original - closed positions. Blinking her eyelids, the woman only now noticed that all the individual metal grate segments had a release mechanism. A dramatic clapping interrupted her further musings on the curious, yet irrelevant subject.
Still kneeling, the exhausted and bruised woman glared at the source of the clapping, already knowing the identity of the arrogant person producing the well-measured, theatrical noise.
The scruffy-looking man that was gazing back at her, still moving his crocodile-leather gloved hands in a mocking clapping motion, appeared almost exactly the same as he did in the pictures she had seen.
Karl Heisenberg.
The only difference was that his beloved longcoat was absent, showing off his lean but notable musculature, as well as a great many scars lining his arms. His voice was of a pleasant, theatrical pitch and the tone was of a person who knew that they had the upper hand.
"Interesting trick with the pen, girl."
Annoyed at him for apparently just watching and not helping her until the last moment, Millie stood up, even as she dusted her bloodied and dirty shirt. Her tone was a diplomatic one, nevertheless.
"Mr. Heisenberg. Thank you for providing assistance against these… most unsavory types…"
In a blink of an eye, with no warning, the scruffy man flung a dagger right at her throat, using his supernatural power to ensure its accuracy. Only Millie's well-honed reflexes allowed her to intercept it with her own magnetic field manipulation - mere inches from her throat. The man's growled out words stopped any words of protest from leaving her own throat.
"Who the fuck are you, and more importantly - how the fuck do you know who the fuck I am and where the fuck to find me?"
Sick and tired of being pushed around, the short woman hissed in anger, as she tried to force the sharp weapon away from herself. The knife budged several inches away, only to freeze in midair as a comparable force pushed on it from the other direction.
After the apparent telekinetic stalemate persisted for several seconds, Millie couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction at matching her father's power. That cocky smirk turned into a frown quickly, however, as Karl narrowed his eyes and the knife - easily overpowering her force - found itself scraping against the skin of her neck, drawing a speck of blood.
"I won't ask again."
The woman straightened out in resignation, as sweat started beading on her brows. Deciding that neither defiance nor worldshaking revelations would do her any good, Millie went for a more neutral, diplomatic approach, once again.
"My apologies for testing your patience, Mr. Heisenberg… I work for the Duke. I am here on his behalf… Would you be so kind as to..?
With a scoff and a flick of his wrist, the scruffy man forced the dagger to fly back to his side. He still glared at her through his tinted glasses, as he folded his arms - waiting for an elaboration. The knife remained levitating at his side - a clear threat.
"The Connections dealt a powerful blow to the Duke, therefore he had asked me to locate and enlist your aid, if at all possible, Mr. Heisenberg."
Karl gave a long, tired sigh at that, before motioning for her to follow him, as he turned around and slowly started walking back into his domain, while finally pocketing his knife.
Sighing in relief, Millie followed, even as she clutched her wounded arm.
Behind the mountain of scrap, an entire kingdom of metal awaited. The piles of metal bits of all sizes and shapes; ruined vehicle husks; numerous shoddy shacks - presumably acting as workshops; and a large, almost normal-looking house in the middle of it all.
As the man in front of her trudged to his dwelling, he spoke in an intrigued voice.
"The Duke wouldn't have suffered any blows from these morons, not unless he overextended himself. Is he finally taking some action, then?"
"He is, sir. We have a real chance at bringing them all down… yet for now it appears that they have the upper hand… The Duke is in trouble, as is the Dimitrescu family." Remembering the Duke's words, Millie mentioned the vampiric family intentionally, hoping to provoke a reaction.
Hearing that, the man stopped dead in his tracks, but did not turn her way. The menace Karl was suddenly emanating was palpable - as small bits of metal around them started slightly shaking and his fists clenching. The man's voice was a low growl as he hissed out a question.
"You got them involved in your mess, as well?"
Millie realized that she had to thread carefully here. Clearly, the Duke was correct in his assumption that Karl did in fact care about his sister and her three daughters. A little half-truth couldn't hurt…
"No, sir… The Connections found them… They've kidnapped Lady Dimitrescu, but the three daughters escaped. Working together, we have managed to recover Lady Dimitrescu and they are all safe and sound...for now."
The man relaxed his tense posture, before continuing walking forward. Millie released a sigh of her own, as the sharp metal bits returned to rest around her.
Right outside his ramshackle house, the man stopped again, this time turning around to look right in her metal gray orbs, taking his own tinted glasses in the process.
Staring into his hazel eyes, Millie felt judged as never before.
"I think it's time you told me who exactly you are, girl."
Nervously biting her lower lip, the smaller woman failed to maintain eye contact, as she mumbled out a question of her own.
"Do you remember Tamara Stout?"
The man furrowed his brows, as he recalled the familiar name.
A herbalist with more passion for her craft than common sense. The woman, who had so brazenly wandered into their isolated region of Romania, in search of a rare herb that was rumored to be there.
The villagers, eager to please Miranda, captured her themselves. Dimitrescu demanded her as a maid, yet Miranda decided to give her to the genius engineer instead, as he had been lacking fresh, living subjects at that time. The way the tall bitch had fumed that day, at being denied a newest maid was still fresh in his memory. Thinking back on that, Karl couldn't help but consider that peculiar choice of Miranda's as an additional spike to wedge into their already strained relationship - to encourage the bitter rivalry he had with Alcina.
He'd fully intended to use Tamara as a subject for his own Soldat research...yet her cheerful spirit and carefree nature - even in her unenviable situation - sparked an interest in him.
Instead of turning her into yet another mindless monster, Karl had made the woman his personal servant - for a time. After months of getting to know Tamara, he had started to feel something more for her. Eventually, they made love.
Several more weeks had passed, in almost perfect bliss for Karl, yet he could see that Tamara's own spark was fading - stuck in his factory, for all days and nights. Her adventurous spirit could not be bound to a single place. Not willing to witness that unique quality withering and dying and not wishing to hurt the woman, Karl had arranged something with the Duke.
A way out, without Miranda's knowing. That was almost thirty years ago. And now, he was gazing at a woman with these same strikingly metal-gray eyes. With these same ebony black hair. The bright mind that was Karl's made the connection instantly, yet he still could not believe it.
"Tamara still alive?"
His voice was weak, quiet. The smaller woman only shook her head, making a spike of pain run through his own heart
"She died...giving birth to me."
Karl could only glare at this woman in her late twenties. A perfect stranger. His own daughter. The one he never knew he had - or wanted to have.
"I see… well, come inside. I think you've got a lot of explaining to do about what Duke and The Connections have been up to in the last years.
Millie expected that reaction fully - that he wouldn't even care about having a child. Yet it still hurt, nonetheless. Suppressing tears that were threatening to burst forth, the woman just nodded, making a motion to enter the dwelling.
Before she could do so, however, a large shadow rushed around the house's corner, getting right in her face, making the woman let out a yelp of surprise and fright.
Backing away from what turned out to be a very large, flightless bird, Millie couldn't help but stare at its metal beak in wonderment. The bird - emu - as Millie recalled these were called, glared back at her with its large orange eyes, even as it made threatening low-pitched grunting and sent dust her way with its restless clawed foot.
"Woah, there, Allie. Back down, girl. This is a friend."
The bird shuffled its feet around, before making a loud booming noise. Apparently losing interest in Millie's non-threatening posture, it swiftly retreated back the way it came. Millie couldn't help but question the name aloud, with some amusement in her voice.
"You're calling your pet emu Allie?"
Karl smirked, as he responded - his amused tone mirroring her own.
"It's tall and has a bit of an attitude problem."
Millie couldn't help but laugh out loud at the peculiar reference, Karl soon joining in. Somehow, the tense mood got just a bit lighter.
"Let's get inside, I'll put the kettle on. We have a lot to talk about."
Nodding, the woman did as told. The catching up as family could wait. The Connection was their primary concern, for now. Entering the sparsely decorated dwelling, the first thing the woman's eye fell upon was a series of small, framed photographs.
Taking a closer look, Millie was curious to find the first one - a badly faded one - showing three people - an adult man and a woman, with a young boy no older than five in the middle. The apparent family were smiling in the photo, which was made in black and white. It must've been extremely old, and Millie couldn't help but wonder if this was Karl himself, with his own parents, before Miranda barged in.
Grandfather looks strict… yet I can see the intelligence glinting in his eyes even from this ancient photo… Grandmother is so beautiful and her smile is so kind…
Feeling emotional, Millie glanced at the second photograph, which was a newer one - made in color. She couldn't suppress a smile. It was of Karl and the three Dimitrescu daughters, with Bela having a gentle smile on her face, Daniela making a silly grimace and Karl and Cassandra standing in the back - adopting much more composed expressions, though not without a ghost of smiles on their own lips.
He really does love them…
A sound of clearing throat brought Millie out of her trance. Turning toward her host, who now had a couple of cups full of delicious-smelling black tea, the black-haired woman wanted to apologize for intruding on his private possessions, yet the man merely made a motion for her to sit at the simple wooden table.
Taking the offered seat, Millie watched Karl curiously, as he placed the cups on the table, only to retreat back into the further room. A moment later, he came back with a bandage, as well as some green gel.
Without saying a word, the scruffy man set to work on her acid-burned arm, to her own surprise. It wasn't too deep, and Millie was shocked that he cared enough to provide first aid. As he worked, Karl asked her a question, in a soft and quiet voice.
"So... how are my nieces doing?"
I wish you asked how I was doing...dad…
Suppressing her dismay, the mechanic's daughter answered one question after another, struggling to satisfy Karl's ever growing curiosity. It was clear that the recluse missed the outside world, despite the kingdom of metal he had carved out for himself here. With each eagerly provided answer, his determination to make a grand return increased. So when Millie finally asked a question of her own, his answer was hardly surprising.
"So… will you help us?"
"As much as I needed this vacation, I think it has gone on for long enough. So yes, I will help. It's about damn time I got back to kicking ass."
Karl Heisenberg's cocky smirk made Millie feel like all the troubles she went through to get here was worth it, after all. The Connections will not know what hit them.
Inside the modestly decorated conference room the gang was ready to start their meeting, with Leon sitting at the head of a rectangular mahogany table at one side, and Alcina at the other.
It's been a couple of minutes already since they've all gathered here. All but Chris and Cassandra. Some impatience was growing in the room.
"They sure are having a lengthy talk…" Leon scratched his head as he muttered the obvious statement.
Daniela was itching in her seat, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face as her perverted mind concocted all kinds of various dirty scenarios. "I can go check on them! Lemme go check on them!" She was way too eager, making Bela scoff and lightly slap the back of her younger sister's head.
Alcina only sighed in tired resignation. Her restless daughters really took a fancy to these silly man-things…
Jill was looking at the assembled faces in quiet curiosity, not exactly sure about what was going on, even if the implications were obvious. Surely Chris wouldn't be having an improper sex in a kitchen with that crass woman? Then again, that man was always full of surprises…
Every question was answered as the late duo itself finally made their grand entrance inside the conference room, almost hand-in-hand. With their glowing, almost blushing faces it was quite clear to most present exactly what they've been doing.
Alcina let out an audible gasp at the indignation. Her beloved daughter was taken right at the kitchen… the humiliation almost made her faint. The only consolidation was that Cassandra actually looked at her with an apologetic wince.
I just hope this is truly what you wish to do with your life, my dear lovebug… to put your heart in the hands of this vile, brutish man.
Jill was as shocked as Alcina. She couldn't help but ponder if Chris was finally moving on from their own trainwreck of a relationship, or if that was merely the latest, irrelevant fling. Whatever it was, the brunette woman genuinely hoped that the man would find happiness. Few deserved it as much as him and she could only curse the fact that they could not find it together. God knows they tried.
Finally, the late arrivals took their seats - Chris next to Ethan and Cassandra next to Daniela. The redhead immediately began whispering something - likely lewd - into her older sister's ear, making the latter blush furiously.
In that moment, the large screen on the wall behind Leon sprung to life, Duke's cherub face joining their meeting remotely. The large merchant appeared quite somber for the occasion, his normally jolly disposition nowhere to be found. Clearly, he still mourned the loss of his beloved ship, which was understandable.
"Greetings, my dear friends. While I wish to be there with you in the flesh, the unfortunate turn of events means that this will have to suffice…"
Everyone responded with curt greetings, except for Daniela, who delivered a heartfelt one, with her palm on her actual heart as she did so. "Duke! I am so sorry about the Nouă Speranță! Once we are done with these scumbags who did it, we will help build a ship even more majestic! I'll take care of decorations! You'll love them!"
Ethan and Bela both gave the eager redhead a genuine smile. The youngest Dimitrescu's authentic emotions were truly inspiring for everyone present. The Duke himself had a measure of his jolly nature returning to his softening features. "Thank you, my dear. I will hold you to that promise!"
As the pleasantries went out of the way, clearing his throat to gain attention, Leon started the meeting.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. You all know why we have gathered here today. To finally get rid of the Connections." Many nods followed that statement, as Leon continued. "The Duke had already shared the highlights of the items and information recovered from your latest...ehm… activities."
Cassandra giggled with menace at that. She was quite happy about the bodycount left in her wake, so far. Yet more needed to have a taste of her sickle, knife or teeth. So many more.
Leon's voice lost a bit of spark. "And while this is indeed a treasure trove of valuable and compromising material that would set them back immeasurably, it's not quite enough to deal one final, decisive blow."
The mood in the room immediately shifted from that cold, factual statement. The girls traded glances, unsure about where that was going. Leon proceeded, with a smirk.
"Fortunately, that's exactly the reason I've arranged for our meeting to happen here, in Nice." Everyone looked at him with curiosity, at that. The man's smirk turned into a full-blown grin.
"One of my best agents had been in touch with a possible high-value defector for a while now, yet that person was unwilling to commit to any meaningful relationship with us." Leon made a dramatic pause, giving everyone present a pointed look.
"But now… it appears that the mess you've caused in Mauritania has ruffled quite a few feathers up there, and the defector is now looking for a way out. Almost immediately after that raid of yours concluded successfully, that man has contacted us, arranging a meeting, right here."
"The Connections' has a defector? What makes you think he is a real deal?" Chris was quick to inquire, with Leon even quicker with his response.
"He's fed us some valuable data to prove his intent, already. Several high-profile arrests, as well as seizures of extremely valuable assets were only possible because of the leaked info that guy provided. It's still possible that he's a fake, laying an ambush of some kind for us, but that seems quite unlikely."
"What's the catch then? Surely that man won't just surrender all he knows." Bela's question made sense, and Leon pointed an index finger right her way, as he answered.
"Bingo. That's where some of the issues are coming from. First, the guy is asking for an outrageous sum for his cooperation. Ten million U.S. dollars, in cash. Now, normally a sum like that would be no problem for Uncle Sam to provide, yet we have to be extra cautious - as we are here in an unofficial capacity and an act of wiring the requested amount would no doubt arouse suspicion. So..."
Leon glanced behind his shoulder, leveling a questioning glance Duke's way. The large merchant adopted a sheepish expression, before responding.
"I am afraid the latest setback will mean that procuring the aforementioned sum will be tricky… as well as time-consuming."
A pregnant silence ensued, yet it did not last long, as Lady Dimitrescu herself interrupted it, surprising most present.
"As I mentioned before, the House Dimitrescu is eager to provide monetary support for this common venture of ours. Duke, if you'll be so kind as to make a withdrawal and transfer of the required sum on our behalf?"
The Duke smiled warmly, as he responded. "Of course, my lady. I am sure that everyone present appreciates your generosity."
Alcina merely curled her blood-red lips, as if conversing about such trifling sums was beneath her. Bela took a moment to glance at her mother with affection. Lady Dimitrescu put on a tough, uncaring facade, yet her oldest daughter could see plainly that her mother cared, that she was genuinely happy to be of use. That barely-perceptible edge in her curled lip, as well as that unmistakable glinting in her amber orbs betrayed Alcina's true feelings to her eldest.
Cassandra, however, was not as amused by the whole conversation. Folding her arms and holding her chin high, the brunette scoffed, before launching into an angry tirade.
"So, we will just let that traitorous worm off the hook, and even pay him money!? For all I know, he might've been the one in charge of these vile mercenaries who attacked us! I say we take what we want from him, by force, and then feed him to the pigs, alive and screaming."
The woman's cruelty was well-known to the majority present, yet the newcomers simply stared at her in bewilderment.
"How are we any better than them if we do th…" Leon attempted to placate the brunette, yet she interrupted him with dark passion, her amber orbs glinting in malice.
"We are not! I don't give a shit about being a better person, or any such nonsense! I just want to let everyone know what fate awaits those who fuck with the Dimitrescu! A painful, slow demise."
A brief, tense silence ensued, as the gathering processed her callous words. Eventually, Leon sighed, but held his ground. "Regardless of your personal opinions, Miss Dimitrescu, my agent sees much potential in this defector as a long-term asset. Getting one scumbag off the hook to topple a thousand is a fair trade, if you ask me."
Cassandra scoffed, but held her tongue. A reassuring smile from Chris made her black heart flutter and her anger dissipated soon after. What is this man-thing doing to me…
Seeing that one issue was solved, the assistant advisor moved on to the next.
"Now, the defector has arranged a meeting, today." Everyone was once again listening with attention, to Leon's satisfaction. "Midnight, inside La Rose Noire - a famous, in… err, certain circles, nightclub right here, in Nice's suburbs."
"A nightclub?" Chris' gasp of astonishment was mirrored by several others. Leon's smirk grew.
"Indeed. The owner is a notorious and powerful white-collar criminal, with deep ties into the local government. Basically untouchable. But apparently owing a favor or two to our dear defector…"
Daniela's amber orbs widened in excitement. This was almost exactly like the plot of the latest novel she'd read! The redhead stared right into the Leon's mouth, not wanting to miss a word. Yet it was Jill, who spoke next.
"So, who's going to meet that defector?"
"I'll go." Chris did not hesitate to volunteer. Leon only shook his head.
"Not good enough, I am afraid. I've got word that the defector has reached out to Chinese and Russians, as well. We'll need to put on a show to ensure that he chooses us. A bigger party is needed to achieve that, I believe."
"How would any of us even gain access there? Doubt we can just stroll into that club..." Ethan couldn't suppress his curiosity, so he voiced his thoughts. He visited his fair share of clubs, yet none of them were owned by organized crime lords… at least not to his knowledge. The man imagined that these kinds of seedy establishments were quite selective about who was let in.
Hearing that query, the Duke grinned widely. "Good question, Mr. Winters! Now, this is an elite establishment, with attendance booked months in advance…"
Ethan nodded, but waited for the huge merchant to continue. The 'but' was bound to follow.
"But, with a little bird's help, I've managed to have a backdoor to their facial recognition system installed..."
Leon nodded, and picked the conversation. "For Hannigan's - my best agent - hacking into their systems was a child's play with that backdoor. We can get you in as any of the real guests that were on the list that day. Forging fake IDs will take less than an hour."
The Duke grinned mirthfully, before clapping his enormous palms together and speaking in a suggestive tone.
"Now, for our event, might I recommend a party of six? Three men and three women. Some minor noble family from England, as well as their escorts, which my men are prepared to intercept and inconspicuously reroute, while you take their place inside La Rose Noire."
"Count me out. I have an allergy to loud music." Jill was quick to excuse herself, raising an eyebrow from Chris. He knew for a fact that she had no such allergies, and in fact, was a rave animal whenever the situation permitted. The brunette partner of his merely gave him a conspiratorial wink as she noted his confused glance her way. Daniela's overly eager voice quickly made the captain glance her way, instead.
"Oh my God! Me! I - Daniela the Brave - volunteer for this most perilous and dangerous of missions! Please! Select me!"
"Dear sister! Someone will have to keep an eye on you, in that case! I have no choice but to tag along, then!" Cassandra was quick to select herself, with a self-satisfied smirk directed at both Daniela and Chris.
With an annoyed scoff, Bela was next to butt in. "Aren't you forgetting something, dearest sisters of mine? We are international fugitives, surely we cannot show our faces anywhere in public?"
Jill let out a mirthless chuckle at that. "Four out of thousands. Get in line, girls."
With an annoyed grunt, Chris added his own two cents. "Any proper automated system will pick you up as a person of interest, but most people will struggle to connect any of you to some face they saw on TV in between drinking some beer and watching football."
Leon gave a nod, as he checked their Interpol mugshots for himself on his smartphone. "True. I can hardly tell that you're the same people as these bloodied and dirt-smeared guys the drone took a shot of during that raid. We will need to do something about these yellow eyes and forehead tattoos of yours, though..."
Daniela appeared awestruck, with stars shining in her eyes as she mumbled out an unsure query, in a meek and quiet voice.
"So… does that mean we can go to a nightclub…"
Leon scratched his head, before answering.
"Well… as long as you do what Chris tells you, I don't see why not."
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"
The deafening pitch of Daniela's piercing voice made several people actually cover their ears, with Bela and Cassandra simply grinning - likely used to the wild displays of enthusiasm the redhead occasionally indulged in.
After her daughter calmed down a bit, Alcina couldn't help but ask aloud the thought that gnawed at her, with genuine worry in her tone.
"Are you sure it is wise, my daughters? It could prove more dangerous than you think…"
Daniela made the cutest pout Ethan had ever seen her do, making the matriarch's heart melt. At seeing the protective maternal reaction, Chris couldn't help but add an encouragement of his own.
"Don't worry, Lady Dimitrescu. I'll keep your daughters safe. And… truth to be told, I think they'd be perfect - the defector will surely recognize them himself and know that we mean business."
With a resigned sigh, Alcina conceded. Bela grinned evilly then, as she continued the discussion. Ethan couldn't help but gulp as her piercing yellow eyes focused firmly on his own.
"We are still two men short, aren't we?"
To the blonde daughter's annoyance, a certain redheaded man responded to that.
"Oh, I am in. Never missed a good clubbing session in my life, not gonna start now!"
Clicking her tongue at Dion, Bela continued, not taking her eyes off Ethan. "Alright, one more, and I propose Ethan!"
"Me?" Ethan actually appeared surprised by her suggestion, making Bela lick her lips at how cute he looked in that moment. I could eat him right up…
"I second that, of course. Ethan." Cassandra was now also staring right at him, a mischievous smirk of her own decorating the cruel brunette's face.
"I'll accept only Ethan for the last spot on our team!" Daniela pumped her small fist up as she boisterously proclaimed her support for him.
Ethan couldn't suppress a joyful laugh at that unified display, before nodding his head. "Well, how can I possibly refuse the three of you, ladies?"
"You can't." The finality of Bela's voice sent shivers of anticipation down Ethan's spine. This was going to be a wild night.
"I feel like someone should remind you lot that this is work...not fun." Rolando attempted to butt in, yet was quickly but quietly hushed by Chris.
"Let them have this moment."
Leon couldn't suppress a chuckle of his own at the unbelievable sight of these strange women being so eager for a simple outing into the city. They must have led extremely sheltered lives. Attracting everyone's attention with a loud clap, Leon concluded their meeting with some parting words.
"Alright, it's all settled then. As long as you follow Chris' instructions as the situation develops, I have no objections to the team's composition."
The three Dimitrescu girls gave each other conspiratorial glances and nods, before surprising everyone as they stood at attention - in perfect synchronicity - while giving a proper military salute and a trio of: "Sir, Yes, Sir!" Unable to hold that pose for long, they soon dropped it, only to devolve into fits of uncontrollable giggling.
Leon was genuinely amused by the little performance, as was reflected in his upbeat tone. "Aren't you three a bundle of joy? Regardless, we are done here, I believe." Giving everyone assembled a glance, the man spoke softly, but with authority.
"Jill, take a couple of Holiday's men and withdraw the money, the Duke will stay in contact with you."
The shorter brunette woman simply nodded curtly, before moving out of the conference room, giving everyone a goodbye wave as she did so.
"Everyone else, you've got a nightclub to prepare for?"
Chris nodded, and took over. "Indeed. Let's go ask Emily to go out to buy you some colored contact lenses and foundation to cover these tattoos."
As everyone made a motion to get out of the conference room to attend to business elsewhere, an inconspicuous object was shoved right into Ethan's right hand. With surprise, the man quickly realized that it was his own sketchbook. Cassandra didn't even glance his way, as she rounded the corner, chatting amicable with Daniela, instead.
"Cass was quite taken with the quality of your work... you'll have to show it to me - next." Bela's husky voice in his ear made the man turn his face towards the blonde Dimitrescu, only to have her lips smash against his own in a quick but lustful kiss that promised more to come. "… see you later, handsome."
And just like that, the giggling blonde left the starstruck man in a now emptied hallway, making sure to sway her hips for her next steps, showing off her curvy rear.
Ethan couldn't wait to knead these soft yet firm buttocks of hers with his own hands, but for now, he merely flipped through his prized sketchbook, to ensure that his works were intact.
Getting to the page where he had drawn Cassandra - with her expression fierce and a single fist raised and clenched; the man smirked as someone - with perfect penmanship, wrote a small extra bit on the bottom. Dimitrescu seal of approval.
With a chuckle, Ethan got to the last page, where a new work awaited, to his own bewilderment. Ethan's own face stared right back at him from the sketchbook, done with amazing attention to detail, highlighting his own strong features, such as his pleasantly straight cheeks or expressive eyes. The artist's identity was not a mystery for long, as she had left a little note at the bottom of the sketch.
"A stupid man-thing" by Cassandra Precision Dimitrescu
P.S. You break Bela's heart - I'll break you.
Ethan wasn't sure whether to be astounded by her own formidable talent, insulted by the derogatory nick-name, amused by her choice of a middle name, or frightened by the threat he knew she meant, so he just shrugged his shoulders and went to rejoin the gang in the living room. This day was going to be a long one.
As the sun hid behind the horizon, Anna smirked; her small yet calloused from hard work fingers clutching a smartphone. From her spot near the helipad, the servant-turned-saboteur observed two black sedans leaving the villa grounds. Unbeknownst to anyone else, the quiet and inconspicuous stewardess had listened in on their little meeting.
Before departing for his foolish venture, Dion Wilson was only too eager to provide his civilian smartphone to her, at the merest implications of potential boredom from the small woman.
"I am going to have fun, only fair that you can do the same!" - were his parting words, as he unlocked the device, before offering it to her. The bodysnatcher only marveled at his stupidity. It was always amazing how much a sob story combined with some eyelash batting could achieve.
Standing on top of the villa's roof, where she could do her business without attracting unwanted attention, the woman took a moment to glance around the property. Unlike the previous observers who occupied this very roof, she was not interested in the majestic view. Only in the men patrolling the grounds down below.
American spec ops… Ten of them...could be problematic… but not mission-critical.
Returning back to the phone clutched in her small hand, Anna inspected the expensive toy. True, it contained no state secrets or compromising material (unless one counted a lot of erotic pictures of hot women as that), yet it would serve her purposes just as well.
Letting out an evil giggle, before dialing a familiar number, the woman waited for the receiver to pick up. A meek male voice spoke to her from the other side.
"Hello, you've reached Vektor Cleaning Services, how may we be of assistance?"
Anna did not think about her response. "I found myself dissatisfied by the quality of your work. Kindly connect me to your manager."
"...Just a moment."
Anna waited patiently, as the line clicked - shifting to a much more secure, untraceable connection. Nothing but breathing was heard from the phone now - the new operator giving the caller the first word. Knowing the protocol well, the bodysnatcher spoke the sequence that would be completely unfamiliar to anyone not in the know.
"PF-14-24-00087-Felicity."
A confident female voice answered, after a delay.
"Confirmed. How may we assist you today, agent Fettel?"
Anna did not hesitate to answer.
"Requesting a 'Blackout' asset at my current position, to be unleashed and placed under my direct control on my next call to Vektor. Authorisation code - 3247B-Omega."
The female operator responded after a delay of several seconds, sounding less confident, this time.
"...Received. Specify setting?"
"Maximum lethality." The bodysnatcher could hear the breath being caught in the throat of the operator, from the sheer finality of the spoken command. To agent Fettel's annoyance, the operator delayed the final confirmation, yet again.
"...Confirm again, agent Fettel? You're still within the city limits, civilian casualties are a high pos..."
With an annoyed scoff, the bodysnatcher interrupted the operator mid-sentence.
"Disregard that last. Contact the PR department and tell them to cook up a story about an unlawful American intervention on French sovereign soil to apprehend some escaped whistleblower or whatever. Some dead civilians will only aid our cause. You have your authorization code - proceed."
"...Confirmed. You will have your asset within twenty-four hours." There was a certain remorseful kind of resignation in the operator's tone.
"Excellent."
Ending the call, Anna hummed a cheerful tune as she returned back inside the villa, cruel thoughts running through her hijacked head.
How nice of all the loose ends to gather together - in one place! These fools will not know what hit them!
There was only one thing agent Fettel was not happy about. Real Anna somehow got out of the little special hell he had constructed just for her and was now impotently raging at him in Russian - which he no longer understood, since he had lost connection with her memories, and could only control her body now.
Уйди из моего тела, дьявол! Тварь ты этакая! Ненавижу! Убью!
Shut the fuck up! Be a good girl and maybe I'll consider letting you have your worthless sack of meat back after I am done with it. Otherwise, I might just be tempted to drown it before vacating.
That shut her up. For a while. That little girl proved to be a more resilient creature than originally anticipated and now he had to play it safe and keep his head down, as he could no longer mimic that ridiculous Russian accent she possessed.
Doesn't matter. Twenty-four hours of this charade is all I need.
With that thought, the infiltrator retreated to a small guest room, planning to pretend to be sick. With Chris Redfield and Dion Wilson in that nightclub, nobody else would have any reason to pester little Anna. Everything was going according to plan, more or less.
Author's Note:
A bit of a lengthy chapter, as even though I originally wanted to split Australian segment in two, I've decided to just roll it in one. Quite hyped to get to work on the next chapter, as it will be definitely a fun one, as will be the one after it. Now, all done with 'setting the table' we can get to the juicy action.
Hope this chapter was also enjoyable and wish you all to have a great week!