Chapter Nine: Prodigy
Emil Nemico sulked in his room feeling more and more like a scolded child as he listened to Vera's rant. The woman was furious and to a great extent Emil understood the sentiment. He'd only the day before informed them of his failure to protect certain assets that the Templars had rumored were present in the room of the late Desmond Miles. It wasn't something that had been his responsibility expressly but it was a matter of utmost importance and failure was not looked upon kindly by the Templar Order. Vera was just beyond his bedroom door which she had shut to protect both the man's ears and his life for fear that she would lose herself in the vitriolic rage with which she was consumed.
Emil's eyes fled to the nearby window wondering if he could sneak out into the night and vanish into the streets of City 12. The idea vanished from his mind as Vera's rant at last came to his true failing, the one thing he had been entrusted with, the destruction of Julian Miles. The young assassin had proved more than elusive and even when his bounty hunters caught up to Julian they seldom came away from the confrontation alive. None had been successful at killing the skilled son of Desmond Miles. Rumors were returning to the streets of City 12, whispers that could not be tolerated. The people of City 12 could not be allowed to know that the Assassin Order was still alive and, more importantly, that Julian was.
"I will not fail again," Emil promised somewhere between shouting and whispering, "I promise you Vera. I am loyal to the Order."
"Loyalty is not the issue here!" Vera shouted in protest banging her fist against the door to emphasize each syllable, "Julian Miles must die! We are running out of time!"
"I'll kill him, I'll do it myself if I have to," Emil replied mustering all the sincerity he could.
"No Emil," she whispered quietly, "I should have never become entangled with you. I'm going to see to it that he dies Emil."
"Do you think he will be brave enough to attend the trial tomorrow?" Emil asked reveling in the knowledge that Adrian Shephard would soon be dead.
"Julian Miles is a loyal friend," Vera reasoned, "But he is also not stupid. He will be there but do not expect him to be obvious. Killing him will have to wait until after the trial. Don't worry about it, I have a plan."
Emil breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the door to his apartment shut behind her. He'd come to be romantically involved with Vera these past weeks despite her being two decades his senior she maintained the beauty of a woman in her prime. Now that decision seemed to be biting him in the ass as the closer they became the more critical of him she was. He wondered what plans she possessed that would lead to Julian's demise. Everything he had tried to kill the assassin had failed including his short-lived alliance with the alien bounty hunter Theron.
The election was approaching and tomorrow Adrian Shephard would get what was coming to him. By all accounts the Templars had the trial bought and paid for likely before the court date was even set. Originally the others had shied away from a public trial but Emil had suggested they fake evidence that would leave Shephard and the other assassins reviled even more in the minds of the citizens. It was his decision to leave the trial open to the public, indeed to hold the trial in the public square. He would show the world the true face of the Assassins and thus solidify the Templars as the obvious choice to lead the Resistance against the Combine.
Emil lay back on his bed and put his hands behind his head. He set aside his confusion and let visions of his future time as leader of City 12 swell within his mind. Soon this stress would be a thing of the past and he would have the world at his feet. He would rebuild the world of men all on his own he decided with the Templar Order at his side the Combine would soon fall before him. With his ego fully stroked and his fears allied he yawned and drifted off to sleep.
Julian stepped out into the early morning May air. There was a warm breeze and bright blue skies but even all that beauty could not change the grave mood that filled the young assassin. The City looked old and cruel to his eyes as he slipped the Apple of Eden into his jacket. He was dressed inconspicuously in a brown hooded jacket and a tattered pair of jeans some three decades old.
The assassin yawned as he began his trek into the city. He'd been tossing and turning all night to the point that Allison had sent him to sleep on the sofa. His mind was filled with turmoil about what he was about to do but he knew that his decision could potentially save the Assassin Order from extinction. Originally he had planned to use the Piece of Eden to sway the masses, perhaps win himself the election but now he had other plans with it, far less selfish plans. Besides, he reminded himself, he wasn't even on the ballot yet, almost the entire city still thought him dead.
He took his time picking his way through the streets to avoid areas heavy with Templar guards or Emil Nemico's bounty hunters. He even had to worry about the ordinary Resistance soldiers as the Templars had agents amidst their ranks who were on the look-out for him as well. Normally he would have traveled across the rooftops gliding gracefully from block to block but more stealthy measures were called for now. Julian stayed in the darkened alleyways winding his way slowly through the city until at last he saw the thick crowd of onlookers in the square gathered around to watch the trial of the century.
Julian's sharp assassin eyes cut across the distance to see Shephard standing, still cuffed, on stage. A jolt of urgency crossed his mind but he stifled the urge to barrel through the crowd and instead began wading through unnoticed. He blended perfectly with the normal citizenry, their ragged old clothing matching his own worn garments. The assassin wasn't totally unprepared however, beneath his jacket and shirt he wore a layer of thin chain-mail he'd taken from amongst his Father's belongings.
The assassin came to a halt near the front of the crowd but kept behind two bulky gentlemen. There were guards everywhere many of them armed with sniper rifles as if they were expecting interruptions. The Prosecutor was none other than Emil Nemico himself. Julian watched as the Templar put his evidence out, all of it fabricated except for several quotes mined from Shephard to make him look sinister. Julian cursed himself for he'd arrived towards the end of the proceedings and he'd hoped to gain some knowledge of the faux evidence manufactured to put his friend to death. Emil was quickly finished.
"Your honor, the evidence seems clear," Emil said turning with a bow toward the Judge, a man who had sat on Baron Brown's city council for years, "Shephard and the other assassins planned the death of Desmond because they wanted power and he was a true and great leader. If anyone can say otherwise, if anyone can speak in defense of this monster, than let him... No one! Do you have anything to say for yourself Shephard?"
"Fuck you," Shephard growled spitting on Nemico's face, "You know damn well this a farce. If you want to see a guilty man go find yourself a mirror!"
"Need more be said?" Emil asked the crowd before wiping off the spit and bowing to the judge, "There is no one to defend him and so I defer to you your honor."
Despite every instinct within him crying out for action Julian stayed steadfast. He reached his hand into his pocket and locked his gaze on the Judge who whispered back and forth with Vidic and several others. At first the assassin thought his attempts were failing but soon enough the judge became entranced, for but a few moments he locked eyes with Julian and then he stepped forward toward a microphone at center stage. Julian noted the supremely victorious smirk on Emil Nemico's face and felt an imperceptible smile emerge on his own.
"I have reached a verdict," The Judge began, "I, the honorable Judge Brady, find the defendant not guilty."
The crowd grew immediately silent and the smile vanished from Emil Nemico's face. The young Templar looked to Vidic whose ancient face too was screwed up in confusion. Vera and several others rushed onto the stage towards the Judge to engage him in conversation.
"Not guilty?" Emil Nemico asked loud enough for the first rows of the crowd to hear.
Julian chuckled as he took advantage of their distraction to climb onto the stage. Guards moved toward him now but it was too late he was standing right beside Emil Nemico. Julian grabbed the microphone and turned his back on the man to face the crowd.
"Who the hell are you?" He heard the man ask.
"I'm the man you've been trying so hard to kill," Julian replied taking down his hood to reveal his face to the crowd, "I'm the man whose Father you killed."
"Nonsense," one of the Templars replied, "Adrian Shephard killed Desmond Miles."
"Did he?" Julian asked, "Judge Brady disagrees."
"The man is not guilty!" The Judge repeated again, "I'm sure of it!"
"Retrial! Retrial!" Emil Nemico shouted and many in the crowd took up the chant, "Clearly the assassins have the Judge in their pocket! Why else would he be here?"
"I am here to clear the name of Shephard," Julian said with a bow, "But I see the law has already done that. Justice has been done and he will be free!"
The crowd exploded into applause at that although there were some boos in various pockets of the populace.
"I am here to do one other thing," Julian said, "To prove to you all that I am alive and that Emil Nemico is a liar! More than that - I am going to run for Mayor of City 12!"
Once again the crowd erupted and this time the applause drown out those who decided to boo. Julian walked up to Shephard as the guards unlocked his cuffs. Julian embraced the man warmly on stage rousing another round of applause that drown out the disapproving jeers of all those in the crowd who swore allegiance to the Templar Order.
"I knew you weren't dead," Shephard said, his gruff voice cracking with emotion, "I can't believe I'm free."
Emil Nemico felt utterly humiliated and afraid. His eyes searched for Vera but once they found her he averted his gaze from hers. Her pupils seemed narrowed into serpentine slits and each time he crossed their path he felt as if he'd been poisoned by their venom. He was not a weak man or one who was prone to fear but he knew that she couldn't be pleased by this new development. The whole city now knew that Julian Miles was still alive.
The Templar looked out the crowd who still chattered and applauded away as Julian and Shephard walked through the crowd. Could he dare move against the assassin openly? Could he even dare to move against him secretly? The citizens certainly seemed approving of his return. Emil Nemico set aside his doubts and mustered his once prominent confidence. He would win the election no matter what he decided, whether Julian was dead or alive.
The Stalkers lumbered down the corridor their sickly legs tapping against the cold steel of the fortresses floor. They had been activated for the first time in several months and that could mean only one thing, Theron had failed. With their fingers and extremities breaking the icy cocoons that sleep had set upon them they set out to do their task. Sleep Mode was never a comfortable thing and even less comfortable in the cold air of the station. Luckily the station was warming now, the automatic climate adjustment system was reactivated after its slumber and artificial gravity had also re-engaged.
The door hissed in protest, its wires and gears still tired from their three months of slumber. The Stalkers were nearing the chamber now. Each pod was marked by a number and a letter of the Greek Alphabet, a system of organization that the Combine had found most useful. Four of the pods were activated in rapid succession. The thawing process was beginning. Soon four synthetic assassins would be born into the world fully formed and ready to kill.
The sickly Stalkers turned toward the nearby portal and punched in the correct coordinates. An image on the terminal appeared, the inside of a Citadel on Earth. Behind the Stalkers sat a massive window with a view of the Earth, still so blue despite the best efforts of the Combine Empire. The Stalkers went about their business without ever noticing the view, their human selves long dead inside though their flesh was still functioning.
"Theron is dead?" A harsh voice asked over the intercom in a language clearly not of Earth.
"We have received our orders," one of the Stalkers replied.
"Is Alyx Vance still the prime target?" The alien voice asked again.
"No," the Stalker replied, "There is another. You will be meeting with a woman on Earth, she has requested your services personally."
Adrian Shephard had once spent more than a year in stasis. He scarcely understood what that meant and barely remembered any of it other than a bright light and a pounding headache. Since that incident he'd spent much of his time in and out of prisons. The Combine had a thing for correctional institutions although their form of rehabilitation often involved mind probes and cybernetic implants. Shephard had always avoided such things and he'd always escaped. In many ways it wasn't Combine prisons he feared but those run by the most ruthless species he knew, men.
"We're so caught in the fact that the Combine are tying to destroy us that we forget we are the greatest threat to ourselves," Shephard remarked taking a bite of his breakfast.
"I think this food is the greatest threat," Julian joked poking at the bowl of unidentifiable gray-brown chunks bathed in inedible sauce of some kind, "Lighten up Shephard you've just gotten out of prison."
"They're going to try and kill us," Shephard argued, "Fucking Templar bastards."
"Jesus Christ man do you ever stop?" Julian laughed and this time Shephard did join him.
The two had spent much of the day before touring the City visiting business and citizens in attempts to drum up support for Julian's campaign. This morning they had hoped to get an early start but Julian had awoken late.
"We'd have made it halfway across the city if you'd gotten up before noon," Shephard complained again.
"I told you already Allison kept me up," Julian said, "Maybe you've never had a pregnant wife before."
Shephard went quiet all of a sudden as if Julian had put a blade through his heart. The man's already pale face blanched even whiter and Julian felt the profound silence was thick enough in the air to make him choke. He swallowed down his food and walked forward with the man allowing the General to have time to think. Julian had known Shephard for years and the man had never, to his knowledge, married or had a wife. Other than a few girlfriends that Julian vaguely remembered meeting in his youth the assassin couldn't recall Shephard having any romantic contact at all. As a military man dedicated to the survival and success of the Resistance romance just always seemed far from Shephard's busy mind.
"You did have a wife?"
"I did," Shephard announced quietly, "I never mentioned her."
"You never mentioned her to anyone," Julian agreed taking another bite of his food before finding the nearest trash can to throw away the rest.
"I was nineteen when we married," he said, "I met her in boot camp, before I joined the HECU. She was beautiful kid, a fox if ever there was one, and she could beat the shit out of anybody, even me if she wanted to."
"What happened to her?" Julian asked realizing that the man had stopped walking with him and was now several feet behind sitting on a bench.
"Combat happened," he replied, "She deployed to the desert. In the last letter I got from her she said that she had just found out she was pregnant. They were going to send her home when the truck she was riding in hit an IED."
"You never told anyone," Julian replied sadly.
"Not even your Father," Shephard admitted with a sigh, "It was old business. Everyone lost everyone after the Combine came, I had no right to feel sad or bring up emotional baggage."
"You have every right to feel, what makes us human. That's what makes us better than them," Julian argued gesturing toward the ruins of the former Citadel that once stood in City 12.
"I suppose you're right," Shephard said mustering a smile, "Come on kid, let's go win us an election."
The ship touched down just a few hundred feet from where the fight was taking place. The Combine soldiers had the metallic beast surrounded but his movements had proved too hard to predict and his hide was too thick to be penetrated by bullets. Even pulse rounds seemed to graze off his metallic structure with ease as he tore into the Overwatch ranks with his powerful robotic hands. Growling in frustrated anger at the fact that his search still proved fruitless he rushed toward the Overwatch APC that now rolled toward him firing rockets as it did and met it head-on. Up into the air the APC rose held up by the unbreakable canine who cast the vehicle aside as easily as a child throwing a pebble.
"Impressive isn't he?" An alien voice inquired in broken English to her four companions, "Bring him down but do not fully destroy him. He will be of use to us."
"It will be done Mistress," Alpha said turning his synthetic eyes, shrouded as they were beneath his hi-tech helmet complete with heads-up-display, towards his new leader.
Together the four synthetic assassins moved toward the metal menace known as Dog. The remaining Combine soldiers served as distractions as the four of them lifted their weapons and began to fire. Each one held a directed energy pulse weapon known as a Depth Gun it was designed to penetrate the very atomic structure of the enemy to cut them apart molecule by molecule. For something as dense as Dog however this was no easy task and despite several dents appearing in his armor their efforts seemed fruitless.
Dog knocked aside a nearby row of Overwatch before turning his single orange eye toward his new enemies who continued to fire their weapons. Dog rushed the first punching out to hit him only to hit empty space as the assassin leapt away. They were all too quick for his reflexes despite how well he'd been designed. Dog did his best to keep them at bay but their weapons were too strong, he felt bits and pieces of his circuitry being torn apart by the directed beams of the Depth Guns. He managed to swing out his arm and anticipate where one would run crushing the one marked Delta into the trunk of a large tree leaving him leaking red and blue synth-blood on the forest floor.
Dog, realizing he couldn't win, tried to run but several directed beams left the joints in his legs paralyzed. He collapsed to the ground and watched as the leader of his enemies approached from her ship and stood before him. Her grotesquely insect like features were entirely alien to Dog who had never seen anything like her before. She had no lips and instead possessed what seemed like an insectoid beak of sorts which opened into what Dog took as a sickly smile, rows of shimmering teeth ran both horizontal and vertical in the strange creature's mouth.
"And now," she said lifting her wrist and flipping a switch marked EMP, "You sleep."
Julian felt truly strange up on stage. He was never truly an unknown to the world, most in the Resistance knew his name or at the very least knew the name of his Father. Now it seemed he had big shoes to fill and to many of the citizens this run at succeeding Baron Brown was a fitting endeavor. To Julian the whole thing was alien. Politics was not his strong-suit, indeed the entire process seemed entirely pointless with the Combine out there plotting against them. Still he had the opportunity to re-forge the shattered image the Assassin Order had received.
"The Assassins didn't kill my Father," Julian said to a small crowd of about three hundred onlookers, this was his seventh speech in the three days since he'd announced his candidacy with the crowds steadily growing, "Do not blame them for the troubles of this City. I know how you feel, I know you want action. I can't offer you perfection or paradise and I will not make hollow campaign promises like Emil and the others who are running will. The one promise I will make is that I will see that you remain free from the encroachments of power, whether they be from humanity or from the Empire."
The crowd applauded but their cheers lacked the sort of enthusiasm Julian had hoped his little speech might muster. He was no master of rhetoric but he felt that he would be a far better choice than Emil Nemico. It mattered little what his opinion on the matter was, Nemico was popular with the people and had spent a great deal of time earning that reputation while his Templar allies smeared the name of the Assassin Order. Despite all that Julian still felt he had a chance of winning.
The young assassin stepped out amidst the crowd greeting citizens with a hand shake and stopping to kiss a few babies. Seeing the children caused his mind to swirl with emotions. There was more at risk here than a mayoral election and the status of the Assassins. The future of the human race may well rest in City 12.
Julian walked along the city streets whistling a happy tune. He was going to be glad to get back to Allison. He hated leaving his pregnant wife at home all day alone when the city was crowded with enemies. He knew that Alyx often stopped by to keep her company when she wasn't practicing with Jara for her eventual initiation into the Assassin Order. The idea had been Julian's of course, one he'd first expressed to her back in Hunter's Fall before the news of his Father's death had reached him. Now it seemed it would become a reality any day now. The thought of Alyx's shapely body in an assassin robe caused Julian's conscience to scold him.
A sound off to his left caught his attention. Several figures were scurrying about in the darkness causing the assassin to reflexively reach for his gauntlet blade switch. Cursing himself for leaving home without so much as a throwing knife the assassin dodged out of the way as an Asian man about three inches shorter than him barreled past with several men who seemed twice the size of their target in pursuit.
"Get back here Cheng!" One of the men shouted.
"We want our money!" another added!
Julian reflexively put his foot out tripping the last man of the group. Before the angry thug could even get to his feet Julian had knocked him out cold and taken the man's switch blade knife. Julian breathed a sigh of relief truly glad that some excitement had found him to break the routine of his current life in politics. His quick feet found him rushing along the rooftops keeping pace easily with the ruffians who were chasing the man, Cheng, down in an attempt to apparently collect on some debts. The assassin cringed when he realized that Cheng had himself cornered in a dead end alley. With a smirk the assassin waited for his moment, until the three thugs had surrounded Cheng, before he dropped down behind them.
Julian purposefully hit the ground with an audible thud turning the attention of the three. The first found his feet swept out from under him, the second got a kick to the groin, a knee to the stomach and an elbow to the back of the head and the third had a knife to his throat before he could even flip the switch on his own switch-blade knife.
"What are you some kind of fucking assassin?" the thug asked nervously.
"Something like that," Julian said with his head cocked, "Now leave Mister Cheng alone."
"You got it," the thug agreed, "We were just leaving."
"Why is this shit always happening to us?" the other thug asked as the three of them ran away.
"Thank you," Cheng said breathing a sigh of relief, "I'm Cheng Yin."
"Looks like you fell in with the wrong crowd," Julian said checking to make sure the coast is clear.
"You're Julian Miles aren't you?" The man asked with a grin shaking Julian's hand, "Thank you so much Mister Miles, I must repay you. In fact I have to give you something."
"That's not necessary," Julian said trying to pry his hand away from the man.
"I insist," Cheng said with an enthusiastically insistent tone, "It won't take long, my home is nearby."
Julian followed the man back to his home checking each corner carefully for any signs of the thugs and every so often checking his watch as well. He stepped into Cheng's strange home feeling stupid for having resisted the man. The walls were covered with blades, gun parts, odds and ends of all sorts of metal and robotic parts. Piles of gadgets and gizmos of various sorts sat nearby along with a miniature device that looked a lot like a teleportation terminal he'd once seen. Cheng saw his interest in the device and grabbed a small box of oranges nearby and placed them on the teleport pad. Julian watched as arcs of energy swirled in the air. The oranges appeared, though their peels were a bit scorched.
"Been meaning to work out the kinks in that," Cheng remarked.
"Its amazing," Julian said, "Where did you learn to build something like this?"
"My Father. He was an inventor, a scientist, he worked for a company called Abstergo," Cheng replied and though the assassin hardly reacted Cheng could sense the tension in the pause that followed, "You know the place don't you? The boss there, a man named Vidic, he forced him to work on many secret projects, it was years ago but in return he funded independent research after that. Now the Templars demand that I pay them back for what they claim my Father stole."
"Those thugs worked for Vidic?" Julian asked now regretting that he hadn't killed them when he had the chance. Cheng nodded.
"I've got something for you, a sword I think you will find most interesting," Cheng said pulling out an exquisite blade forged of black-blue steel, "The metallic composition is unique, I've never seen a tougher blade, its almost as if it was forged from the same metal as the Citadel itself. It will deflect Dark Energy grenades and pulse rounds, at least in theory."
"Incredible," said admiring the blade, "I tell you what, if you vote for me in the election I'll buy all my blades and inventions from you, deal?"
"Deal Mister Miles," Cheng replied excitedly.
"And if you have any other trouble with those thugs this is where you can find me," Julian said handing the man a small slip of paper with an address on it, "In the meantime I better go. Thank you for the sword."
"No problem," Cheng replied as he waved goodbye.
"Is he gone?" a voice asked a few moments later.
"He's gone," Cheng reluctantly answered watching as the three thugs emerged from his back room and took the paper from him.
"What an idiot that assassin was," the first thug said looking at the address before turning to his two cohorts "Tell Emil that we have the information. You did well Cheng."
"And my debts?" The man asked.
"We'll see how good your information is," the thug replied cruelly.
"But you said if I help you-"
"How much help you've really been of has yet to be determined," the thug growled, "In the meantime don't go nowheres."
"We've extracted the information," one Stalker announced, "Nothing useful regarding the whereabouts of Alyx Vance."
"Pity," the alien beside them cooed before turning toward her three remaining assassins, "We leave for City 12 immediately."
"What do you want us to do with it?" the other Stalker asked.
"Destroy it for all I care," the shimmering skinned beast replied before setting off into the night.
Julian arrived home and held his new sword up to the light admiring the quality craftsmanship of the blade. He scarcely noticed that Allison had entered the room and was giving him a glare that would have cut him down to size in an instant. She cleared her throat to alert him, at last, to her presence. The assassin turned to regard her and saw the hurt expression she wore. He offered a warm smile and moved to kiss her but she brushed past him to admire the sword on the table pretending to be entirely uninterested in him.
"It's beautiful," Allison remarked with a sigh.
"Yes you are," Julian replied trying to repair any damage he'd done in being so late coming home, "A friend gave it to me, returning a favor."
"No," Allison replied and Julian gave her a confused look wondering what he had said that she disagreed with, "I've seen this blade before."
"What do you mean?" Julian asked but Allison's look suddenly went distant. Julian watched her eyes roll into the back of her head, she swooned nearly falling to the floor. Julian's quick reflexes saved her from falling and the assassin carried her to bed and lay her down. She looked up at him as if awakening from a long dark sleep.
"Ressian," she whispered incoherently, "Ressian Malil. They were heavily entrenched around the Temple. GODDAMN IT! THESE AREN'T THE FUCKING VIETCONG! She's not human."
Julian put his hand to her forehead hoping against all hope to absorb the pain from her troubled mind. After several minutes of babbling and ranting and tossing and turning she awoke. Julian lay beside her and held her close and together the two talked each other to sleep hoping to forget the whole incident. Hoping against all hope that it had been nothing but a dream.
Emil Nemico watched Vera walking toward him. Her sexy figure inspired fear instead of arousal now although the two were not always mutually exclusive in Emil's experience. There was a second figure with her, one that Emil Nemico immediately recognized as inhuman, one that made him want to leap from his skin and run away. He knew that the Templars sometimes share allies with the Combine but he was not fully used to the idea. Theron, his brief ally, hadn't been at all unsettling in appearance but as Vera's companion stepped into the light Emil Nemico's strength left his bones.
The hideous black exoskeleton like skin, if it could be called skin, that covered the creature made Emil Nemico's skin crawl. Her face bore four eyes, black pinhole like eyes that looked too artificial to have evolved naturally. The alien's hands were two fingers short of human and her feet, if it could be called a her, were armed with two razor sharp claws and a third diminutive one in the middle. All along her body were small protruding black spires, like the hairs that might have covered a spider's legs. Accompanying the two women were three others who seemed, for the most part, to be human and their company allowed Emil to loosen up a bit.
"I told you that I had a plan," Vera announced with a self-satisfied smirk.
"An alien bounty hunter?" Emil asked wondering if the grotesque monster could even understand English.
"Assassin!" Vera corrected loudly, "She's from a very special order of Assassins that come highly recommended."
"You're sure she can do the job?" Emil asked, "The last bounty hunter didn't do so well."
"I assure you that I do not share much in common with that buffoon Theron," the alien assassin interjected annunciating slowly so to be understood, "I will kill Julian Miles."
"Emil Nemico," Vera said with another grin, "Meet Ressian Malil."