Prelude • Act 2 - Days Gone By


A cool breeze blowing from the southeast blew across the portly old station master's face as he stepped outside to wait for the arriving passenger train into Missoula. He looks down the triple mainline tracks next to the twenty-four other yard leads and sees the first of what will be a quiet day. A rather old and crusted high hood SD-9 whines by as the dynamic brakes slow the road unit down before it passes by and the coaches line up with the platform.

The train arriving was a booked out passenger for a PMC of some sort. So it wasn't surprising when only about fourteen people got off with light duffle bags and in civilian clothes. Many were chatting or on their phones watching funny videos or something stupid enough to make people laugh. The old station master sighed in relief before helping them get off, and gather their items off the three coaches on the train.

It's nice to not have to deal with a commuter train packed with antsy demihumans or an overnight ride with strangers who can't even keep their kids in one spot. At least these booked excursion trips aren't too bad for the old man.

Mongoose sat looking out the window of the coach as his train arrived with a screech and blast of the horn. The train ride from Deer Lodge wasn't that bad minus going at speed through some abandoned and disused rail yards. The switches were especially rough there at speed. Mongoose and the thirteen others had finished their hired bid to the Canaan, and Kremlin Security & Bank was taking over. This meant time off once more since they'd finished up. One of the squad members, Diapolo was showing him a meme he'd made of his brother to Mongoose, both laughing at how dumb the Marine was trying to climb some cliff.

The situation worked out nicely, as he'll probably be able to visit the Ynez family later. He had a birthday to attend, after all.

The soldier mused to himself. Maybe he should stop by the Danmark's bar where that crazy Scotsman likes to lurk off duty for some fun. Lord knows he and his squadmates need some time to wind down recently, especially working security for the copper mine the Canaan was stationed at.

The train stopped at the station, and the security guards all got off the train. Most had parked cars or trucks in the nearest parking lot but Mongoose had a carpool ride with a rabbit demihuman friend, a Cautus from the city, and found his ride outside the station. Getting in the worn Ford pickup, the two drove off to Mongoose's house to drop off his gear before he went to take a bus to the border wall. Outside the tall concrete and steel wall were the demihuman population, and their settlements surrounding the area.

"So Mitchell, you wanna hit up the bar or arcade tonight? Rocky Mountain is going against the Glacier Grizzly's!" His leporine buddy Knoxville asks temptingly, his brown eyes glinting with slight anticipation. "Come on, I can ask Salem or Savannah to swing by."

"Yeah, that is temptin'," Mitchell mused. He looked over at the Cautus knowingly. "But Little Rock's birthday is today an' I can't miss it. Maybe some other time, Knox. Y'know how it is."

The Cautus's long brown ears wilted a bit. "Oh fine. But you owe me two pop cans and a demo-man pizza!"

Mitchell barks a laugh. "Aight sure." He turns to regard his friend curiously. "How's Nashville an' Memphis been doin', by the way?"

"Ehh, they've been alright," Knoxville replies with a nonchalant shrug. He rolls the lollipop around in his mouth. "Nash recently got promoted to manager at the arcade. Maybe he can finally turn that place around after that douchecanoe of a manager he had got fired."

Mitchell looked over in surprise. His surprise quickly became an approving smirk. "No shit? Well dang, about time. He's got the patience of a saint for puttin' up with that fool for so long."

Knoxville rolled his eyes, shifting the lollipop around a bit more. "You can say that again. I don't know how he does it."

The demihuman shook his head, glancing over at Mitchell. "And Sis' got a boyfriend. A human one."

"Really?" Mitchell wondered, pleasantly surprised. He remembered how Memphis had a pretty serious crush on him in the past. It seems she might've moved on. "Huh. That's great to hear. Good on her."

"Yeah, from what I've seen of him when we met, he seems like an alright guy." He suddenly groaned. "She makes a habit of bringing him over to our place a lot though. And they are not subtle about what they get up to."

Mitchell winced a bit at that. "Mm, yeah, that'll do it. Y'all have my sympathy."

The truck stopped at an intersection and Knoxville looked over, nodding slowly as his ears twitched. "Don't get me wrong, I love her to death and she deserves something good in her life, but goddamn, take that 'something good' somewhere else please."

Mitchell didn't mean to laugh, but damn if Knox's face made it impossible not to. "Amen to that, brother."

Knoxville joined the soldier in laughter despite himself. In the moment, Mitchell couldn't help but think back on how he had met the three friends he'd dubbed as the 'Tennessee Trio'. He was still in Hatchet Squadron of Black Eagle Company back then, having just returned to Missoula after the hard-fought battle of Abilene, Texas. He had noticed an influx of new arrivals to Missoula thanks to the big push down southeast towards Georgia.

Among these new refugees was a rabbit demihuman and her three children sticking to a Black Eagle radio operator like glue. Mitchell knew the operator from Bolo Squadron, all BEC squads operated together enough that they at least knew some people in every squad. The family was understandably wary of him at first, but after realizing he was a friend of their benefactor, they softened up towards him.

Mitchell had learned the mother's name was Waverly, and her children Nashville, Knoxville, and Memphis. Apparently they had already gone through their renaming process on the trip to Missoula. Ever since then, Mitchell has kept in touch with the family as they settled into their new lives, even helping the three siblings learn a few things. They've been friends ever since.

Mitchell leaned back in his seat as the light turned green and they began to accelerate again. "How's your mom been? She doin' well?"

Knoxville hummed in affirmation. "She's doing well. I don't think it's going to be long before she has our lil' sis. They've actually let Dad off from working at the Citadel so he can be there for her."

"It's almost that time, huh? How excited are y'all about the big day?" Mitchell inquired teasingly.

"Oh we're looking forward to it," Knoxville said, a rare smile curling his lips. "Memphis especially has been antsy about the occasion. A new sister has her practically bouncing off the walls."

Mitchell chuckled at the mental image. "Yeah, I can definitely believe that. I wish y'all well on that."

Knoxville reached over and gave Mitchell a friendly bump on the arm. "Thanks."

Knoxville makes the turn onto South Higgins Avenue, before heading southwest to where Mitchell lives on Evans Street. Mitchell sees his house come into view. It gave off a cozy and rustic atmosphere, with a small front porch and patio. It had been his family home, one he couldn't bear to part with.

As they came to a stop in front of the abode, Mitchell raised his hand for a fist bump. "Later on, Knox."

Knoxville returned it. "Yeah. Take care, Mitch. Say hi to the others for me."

"Will do." With that, Mitchell got out and watched Knoxville drive away. After a moment, he turned back to his house, a sense of comfort and familiarity settling over him. "Home sweet home."

He headed inside, eager to relax and get ready for a special birthday party.


The big german shepherd was excited that his buddy was back and this meant a trip to the Clark Fork river to play. Trex would always take him to the same place where he would also set up the coach in a peaceful setting away from work and noise. He had made a much more improved routine since he quit flying, which helped his sanity greatly. The trucker let Paxton off his leash, and then drove his pickup into the spacious racing trailer, which also doubled as a workshop.

Calling Paxton over once more from trying to eat garbage from a tipped over can near the elevator, the scotsman put the dog in the cab of the coach, before making sure everything was set and ready to go. Running around to the drivers side, he climbed into the semi cab, and started the engine.

"Ready for a swim, Paxy? Who's gonna go chase the fishies!? You are!" Trex patted the very excited dog's head, "Yes, I know. I don't normally ever leave you here but I went outside the walls. It's not like flying buddy, roads get dangerous." The big dog just keeps panting and wagging as Trex then released the parking brakes, set the air for the trailer and drove out of the underground base.

After about twenty minutes, the pair make it to their little spot that Trex has out next to the crystal clear waters. The sounds, sight, and smell of the river are awe inspiring to most, to Trex its a mental resting place to get his thoughts off the past. His time flying had taken more than what he showed, too much to show for him. This and Danmark's bar were his only two places he could relax at anymore.

Paxton flew out the driver's side door when Trex opened the door, nearly taking him out too. In a mad dash, the big dog chucked himself off the bank and into a large eddy in the river, before diving down and coming back up with a stick. The trucker laughed a bit, before climbing down and walking alongside the riverbank, as Paxton came over and took off through some bushes, only to appear again and race by Trex's legs at full speed.

"Aye, damn you got meh wet lad! Your like a sponge with that coat of yers!" Trex wiped his face off, and dodged aside as the dog hurdled by again with the stick and dropped it at his feet. Trex picked it up before teasing the dog a little, Paxton got low and ready as his master threw it into the rapids. Flinging himself back into the current, he easily reached the piece of wood, and swam back ashore.

"My my lad, you could beat any swimmer with how easy you do that!" Laughing, Trex threw the stick into the woods, and Paxton raced off once more. Now alone for the time being, his hair blowing slightly in a breeze, Trex took in the beauty of his surroundings. But the quiet was interrupted as he heard someone nearby upriver. He assumed it was some kids, but soon saw it was a man dressed in chest waders and fly fishing gear. There with them was a woman dressed in a pink sweater and black sports pants. The pair seem to be talking and not notice him until the woman turned and saw him.

"Hello?" She asked, "You live around here?"

Trex nodded half-heartedly. "Ya. I do. Don't recall you two being here before." He made his way towards them. The fisherman begins to walk back to shore as well, and Trex felt that he was familiar.

"Oh, Rachael, that's Trex MacDougall, the courier driver I told you about!" He said, putting the rod down, "Trex, Rachael, Rachael, Trex."

After a moment, Trex realized who this was, it was a client of his who had become a good fishing partner when they met out here. "Aha! I thought I knew your face Jacob! So I see you brought a friend, from Dan's I assume?"

Jacob chuckled, albeit nervously, "No, nonono! This is my cousin! She lives in Ogden, Utah and came to visit for this coming late weekend. Parents mostly. I knew it was probably you who pulled up next to our car. Paxton sure made a show for Rachael." Paxton's uncanny ability to swim in high currents always surprised him.

"Yeah, he needed to calm down. I left his ass in the garage unfortunately due to a job to the Canaan. I did file against the quarry though. I do not need to be given twice the load I am told if you get that." Jacob nods, face a bit tense. Trex sighed and looked out at the water. "Any luck?"

"Not yet, we just started when you came. You plan on staying the night here? I know a better place down stream at the raft launch ramp. You can drop the trailer without being ticketed for the most part." Trex looks on curiously as Jacob continued, "Also has a waste dump as well. I think it was a campground at one point. Only bit left is that boat launch."

"I shall take a look see-Uh oh here he comes!" Trex says as something big plows through the woods like a train, Paxton appears once again but he's chasing something rather large and with black fur.

"OH SHITE, YOU BLOODY HOUND THATS A BLACK BEAR!" Trex shouts as he watches his dog send the bear right at the three. Jacob grabs both Rachael and Trex, before jumping aside as the duo run past. Paxton barked and growled like he had rabies. No wonder that poor bear got so spooked, it was nowhere near as big as a grizzly so Paxton was a sizable threat. Trex got up in anger, running to his big motorcoach. He flings the passenger door open, and after digging around comes back out with a custom lever action shotgun.

Aiming it into the river ahead of both beasts, he fires it twice, forcing both into different directions. Paxton turns around and charges Rachael this time, almost toppling her over again as he begins to sniff her down.

"PAX! GET OFF HER NOW! COME UP HERE, PAXTON CLARK, GET YER ARSE UP HERE NOW!" Trex shouted from above and the dog reluctantly did so. Jacob patted his cousin down for any injuries, only getting some minor scratches as Trex approached.

"I am so sorry lad, that mutt! He thinks he owns this whole river, damnit! How is she?" He asks, clicking the safety on, and looking at both of them. Jacob laughs but Rachael seems to have had enough.

"I'm done Jacob, I need an ice pack and I'm wet!" She whined as Jacob helped her up. Picking up Jacob's fishing gear the trio walked up to a little black Volkswagen Golf, and put her into the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry lad–"

Jacob cut him off, "No man, this is on me. It was her first time out here so no worries. Pfft–Besides, did you see that bear's face?! He 'bout shit himself as he came down the bank!" Jacob laughed and leaned against the car, "T, Paxton would've ripped his nutsack off if he was like a foot closer to his ass! That dog would have castrated that hairy bastard! We have to have Paxton go to my ranch sometime and chase the turkeys that come over the fence into ma's garden!"

Trex couldn't help but snigger at the thought of his dog committing mass bird genocide. "Yeah right, like when he tired to fucking rip the head of you're granddad's prized goat! I come out and see him spinning this goat around by its horns before he damn near chucked it into my truck lad!" This made Jacob laugh harder.

"I wanna see him do that to a person for once–like that asshole fitness guy who rides his bicycle in front of my house every fucking day. He tried to kick over my mailbox just to get me to join his gym!" Trex shook his head just thinking about it.

"Isn't he that bull demihuman who tried to pick up Greg's car and flip it over just to prove he could do it? Before he was arrested for trespassing on airport grounds?" Trex asks, and Jacob nodded. "What a huge dick, lad. I really should let Pax go after him, rip his nutsack clean off for him. I think that would help him bike faster, wouldn't it? His nutsack is so large, it is probably weighing him down while biking."

"Oh and while he's at it, have him trim those long horns down so it cuts his drag in half! Like that goat–!" Jacob nearly fell over in laughter as the two joked about this guy. Rachael in the car looked back wondering what was taking so long, honking the car's horn to get his attention. Jacob stands up and nods at her.

"Ah shit, hey I got to go take her home. I'll call you later and try to meet you at Danmark's bar, ok?" Jacob said as he got into the car. Trex waves and watches as the pair drives off. He glanced at his pooch before deciding to take a look at the new spot. Getting back into the matte-black big rig, the duo drove about five minutes before they found the spot described. It was a bit cramped but it makes it more welcoming.

Checking the time, he decided to back the stacker trailer in and drop it off. It will be safe here from vandals and also make things easier going downtown with the massive motorcoach in busy tight streets. Paxton waited for a few minutes until Trex came back and took off his work gloves. Stretching, he rolled his head around before setting the semi out of tow mode, making a loud HISS.

Paxton, still a bit wet, just stared at his master, too happily to be a normal dog. Ever since Trex found him as a puppy you could hold in one hand, the big dog has never left his side. As if to say 'Thank you' in his own way. He may have his moments, and weigh almost as much as a sumo wrestler, but Paxton is a good boy unless a goat or horned demihuman crosses his sights. Something about those horns must trigger him to wanna tear them off.

Trex put the truck in gear, and they set off for the lucrative bar downtown near the old commercial side of town. The pair listened to some Upchurch on the road alongside the river, happy once more.


After about an hour he finally gets off the bus at one of the entrances into the bordered city and out to a large settlement that housed the majority of the demihuman population. Mitchell made it through the border wall security without a catch, and began to make his way along the unkept gravel roads. Most people out here usually use the commuter train which arrives several times throughout the day but stops at night. Some have used cars but that was fairly rare due to driver permits being limited and taking a while to acquire for inside city limits. Because of this, carpooling was commonplace, as was using the many city buses at the bus stations at each road entrance.

After fifteen minutes of walking, Mitchell made his way up a slight incline towards a rather nice-looking home with Cottonwood trees planted around the yard for privacy. In the driveway sat a sharp red Toyota Highlander. He could see various beautiful earthen decorations in the yard, giving the place a refined and welcoming feel. The breeze blowing in the smells of nature filled his senses.

The soldier made his way up to the front door, eager to see its residents. Ringing the doorbell, Mitchell waited. Opening it was a demihuman woman, a Teekaz only slightly shorter than Mitchell, wearing a light pink dress and white apron. Her sleek white horns curved gracefully up from her head and displayed a clean sheen. A small silver chain was done up around her horns in a decorative fashion over pristine white hair that draped over her shoulders and out of sight.

Upon seeing the beautiful Teekaz woman, Mitchell smiled warmly. "Howdy there, Helena."

The woman, Helena appeared surprised at Mitchell's appearance at first, but was quick to return his warm smile. "Oh, hello Mitchell. Welcome back."

She stepped to the side, gesturing for him to come inside. "Come on in."

The soldier stepped inside the mudroom, wiping his shoes off on the doormat before removing them. He looked over at Helena knowingly. "Is she in her room? I wanna surprise her."

Helena nodded, returning his knowing look with an amused twinkle in her slitted ruby eyes. "She's in her room doing her homework now. Go make yourself at home while I go get her, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," Mitchell drawled easily. As Helena made her way further into the house, he continued into the living room where light cream walls welcomed him. A large black recliner sat beside a small couch with a small coffee table placed between them. On the wall at the end of the table was a flat screen TV with several instruments hanging next to it on each side. A grand fireplace sat on the opposite wall. Pictures dominated the mantle piece, their contents providing a window into the past.

The first was a picture of the parents on the Canaan with Mitchell standing with them, taken just after his first major deployment. In the second picture, Helena, who is six months pregnant, is standing beside his mother in front of a river amongst a beautiful backdrop of the Bitterroot Range. That had been a couple of months after his mother had taken them in, with Mitchell having brought them back from his first deployment as refugees.

The next and most precious scene is with an infant being held by Helena in a hospital bed with her husband standing proudly next to her. The final picture shows Mitchell in full gear, sans his helmet and gas mask, holding a young girl smiling widely in front of a set of burgundy with gold pinstripe E8 diesel engines at the Missoula GM&NP railway station. Her budding horns were tied with thin red strings in a pretty headdress, similar to her mother.

Mitchell recalled that day clearly. That had been taken just before his deployment to Atlanta. That had been one of the only good memories he had about his time in Georgia, aside from one other.

The train broke down multiple times on the trip down, forcing the trailing locomotive and its loaded train to push them to a known safe point in the region. After parts had to be air-dropped to them, they had to wait a whole fucking week for the damn thing to be in working condition again. That shitshow alone should have told them that the whole operation was going to be cursed.

To this day, he hoped the guys in charge of maintenance got their due karma for that. They were a reinforcement group, after all, and that delay ended up costing lives that could have otherwise been avoided. At least afterwards they were never deployed on long-distance incursions again without big steam power.

Hearing a slight gasp from behind, Mitchell turned around, a smile already forming on his lips.

A young girl of about eight, stood wide-eyed at the entrance of the hallway, her lips parted slightly in surprise. She was the spitting image of her mother aside from the girl's black horns, said horns already grown up to just above her head.

Mitchell grinned at the girl, giving her his signature two-finger salute. "Happy Birthday, Little Rock."

"Mitch!" The young Teekaz, Little Rock rushed forward, colliding with the soldier in a happy embrace. She was so excited to see him, she felt like she'd explode. "You're back!"

Catching the girl, Mitchell picked her up and swung her around playfully, causing her to squeal happily. "You bet I am! I wouldn't miss your birthday for anythin'." He noticed Helena watching the scene with a warm expression.

To the seasoned veteran, this bubbly young girl was like the little sister he never had, never failing to brighten his spirits. She was always a beacon of hope and joy during rough times in his life. Someone to remind himself that he did have some form of family even though his mother was no longer with him anymore.

One thing was for sure though, the Ynez family was just as much family to him, as he was for them.

Just then, Little Rock remembers something. "Hey, I got an art project at the Academia I'm doing! Lemme go grab it, okay? It's in my AK94 backpack!" She says excitedly, looking up at him with those expressive red eyes of hers.

Mitchell nods, relaxed as could be as he released the girl from his embrace. "Sure thing, hon. Besides, I gotta get what I got for ya ready too." He punctuated his statement with a wink.

Practically vibrating with excitement, the girl hurried back to her room.

"Careful, dear, he's not going anywhere," Helena fretted, calling after the girl. She let off a light sigh. "That girl sometimes…"

"Still as energetic as ever, I see," Mitchell said, giving an understanding hum. He turned to the woman, his expression growing curious. "How's Flint, by the way? Is he workin' still?"

Helena nodded, her expression becoming deeply thoughtful. "He is, but he should be home soon."

Before Mitchell could respond, the woman turned her attention to him. "What about you? How has your job been for you lately? Nothing too dangerous, I hope?"

Mitchell shook his head reassuringly, giving off a casual shrug. "Nah, aside from occasionally discouragin' the curious out in the wastes, it's been the usual, thankfully."

She acknowledged him with a slight nod, her expression becoming relieved. "Okay, that's good. I hate the thought of something happening to you out in those untamed lands." Her eyes knowingly drift towards the scar on the right side of his neck.

Sensing the mood dip a bit, Mitchell reached out and gently pulled the woman into a one-armed embrace. "Hey, I've made it this far, haven't I? I've still got people to live for, so I'm gonna keep comin' back to 'em."

"I know," Helena replied, her soothing voice gentle as she returned the soldier's embrace. "Your mother asked me to look after you, so I can't help but feel guilty knowing I can't do anything while you're out there fighting."

She let off a quiet sigh. "We worry about you, Mitchell."

Mitchell didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound like false promises. He knew very well how much Helena despised the cruel world she left behind, and hated it even more for being a place that demanded Mitchell to go and risk his life daily.

Knowing this, Mitchell sighed. This was what his mother said when he went to bootcamp all those years ago. He was thankful that at least Helena was here to worry about him in her place.

'I wonder what she'd say now,' He thought to himself. 'After all, I dunno how many miles I've gone, how many places I've seen, how many people I've met, or how many people I've killed. But I'm doing the best I can, Ma. I hope I'm makin' you proud.'

The soldier certainly held a few regrets over the many years. They say time heals, but Mitchell knew that the only way to learn how to manage grief, trauma, and loss, was to just accept it and move on as best you can. Nothing could change what's already been done, so focus on what's in front of you instead. Soon the sounds of little steps are heard once more coming from Little Rock's room. Releasing Helena from his embrace, Mitchell readied himself by pulling a small rectangular box from his back pocket.

"Look! Look!" Little Rock exclaimed, holding a small clay pot as she hurried out of her room. She raised it up for Mitchell to get a better look. "We're making pots with clay! How does it look?"

Mitchell looked the miniature pot over with approving eyes. "Oh wow, it looks like you're a natural. You did really good on this one. You're a real earthbender, it seems."

Little Rock lowered the pot with a proud grin. "Thanks. I tried really hard on it. It was kind of easy though."

Seeing Helena shake her head a bit in exasperation, Mitchell laughed. "Yeah, I bet."

Mitchell lowered himself down to look her in the eyes. "But hey, while I got your attention, I got somethin' for ya." With that said, the soldier presented the box to her and opened it, bringing out its contents.

In his hand was a small silver chain necklace and engraved locket with her initials on the face. Inside it were two pictures of the pair, one with them on the sidewalk in the Plaza downtown, Mitchell having scooped Little Rock up into a surprise princess carry, both of them posing for the camera. And the other was with them sitting outside a burger joint giving peace signs and wide smiles.

Little Rock couldn't believe her eyes, and her mother seemed a little shocked as well.

"This is…for me?" Little Rock asked quietly, awed as she reached out to take it.

Mitchell's lips curled into a boyish half-smirk. "Mhm. What do ya think?"

Little Rock lunged forward into another hug, nearly clipping Mitchell's jaw with her horns. "It's so pretty! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Mitchell laughed, patting the girl on the back. "You're welcome, birthday girl. It cost a bit, but eh, who's countin'?"

The soldier didn't miss the silent, motherly look Helena gave him for that, so he released the girl and stood to his feet. Helena seemed like she was almost obligated to know and repay Mitchell for the gift.

"I know what you're about to say Helena—don't worry about a thing. Y'all owe me nothin'."

"Mitchell, you can't though, it's too much!" She worried, trying to reason with him.

Mitchell's smirk grows as he raises a brow. "Well, I can't exactly take it back an' have it unmade now, can I?"

His expression softened, hoping to convey his sincerity. "Seriously, don't worry. This ain't anywhere near enough for what y'all do for me."

She sighs, but nods reluctantly before giving the man a hug. She thanked God for having Mitchell in her and her family's lives. After all, demihumans and humans are still somewhat divided but Mitchell doesn't care. His friends and family were all demihuman aside from his parents, and his sincerity and kind-heartedness was something she adored about him.

"Momma, look at this!" Little Rock showed Helena the necklace in her palms. "Isn't it shiny and pretty?"

"It most certainly is, sweetheart," Helena replied, appraising the necklace and locket for herself. "Be sure to take good care of it."

"I will, Momma! I promise!" She says excitedly, her smile so bright it lights up the room. Her mother smiled back with a loving look as she placed the beautiful necklace around Little Rock's neck.

Mitchell watches the familial scene with a slight sense of nostalgia. It's moments like this where all feels right in the world, and he wouldn't want it any other way.


Ryan, waiting for his food to arrive, looked around surveying the open bar and lounge. He noticed an older man walking over in a green and gray private security company uniform for Kremlin Security & Bank. The company does a lot of work that the state won't, protecting the high rises and railways properties from trespassing, as well as running armored bank trucks for silver coin ATMs. He began to wonder where this guy was going, Ryan's CFI training for observation overruling every other thought he had.

Ryan watched the blonde haired man take a seat with another guy in a plaid red and black flannel shirt and ripped up jeans across at the bar. They seemed to know each other and met with a loud 'hey' before sitting down and talking. Ryan normally would ignore this but something about their conversation demands his attention.

"Hey Fitz, so how's the shack at the wall been, eh? You aren't going insane being outside the borders watching the train tracks all day, eh?" The man in the flannel shirt asked the PSC guard.

"Nope, can't go mad since I have night-shift on weekdays. It's quiet and nice. Most of the time." the guard answered plainly.

This made his friend look over in a frown. "What'd you mean? Are you dealing with a drunk or two?"

"I wish we had more of those. Honestly, when someone drunk and homeless appears, it's normally a good show. They wander around talking like they're in a damn concert."

The guard huffed, shaking his head before continuing. "Unfortunately the contract makes us remove them so they don't get hit. At least the ones that aren't beyond the spotlights. We don't go out beyond the radius of those lights on our shack. It says so in our protocol list for this post and the one at the east mainline entrance too." Just as he finished speaking, his drink arrived. He must've ordered a Fireball or Staunch Goat, just by the look of it. His friend nods as he continues.

"So what? You used to work on the highway toll booths. What's so different since you transferred?" Flannel shirt guy asks, bemused. "And why the damn lights?"

"Well about a week ago when I took the tour of the western grounds I had to patrol and monitor through the cams, my supervisor gave me our list of protocols at the very end of my walkaround. I read through them and asked him why half are crossed out, and why the notes are filled with three extra rules for us night shift guys."

The guard paused emphatically. "Don't leave the Annex office if a woman in a ragged dress appears on camera twelve, don't turn off the spotlights, and if you have to go outside under no circumstances do you go into the dark outside the light cast onto the area. I asked him about this saying this joke isn't funny, he shook his head it wasn't a joke to the new guards. You better follow those last three no matter what, and if something occurs outside of those things listed, call me on the radio is what I was told. He had a deadpan serious look in his eyes, but I wasn't entirely convinced."

The guard gestured to himself, his expression casual. "After all, I'm ex-Marine, and we would get sent on the worst missions possible unlike every other branch, especially those Black Eagle bastards. What can spook me anymore?"

Ryan held back a grin at the comment, but it was true the marines had the worst equipment, messiest missions, and the highest losses. The guard continued. "Anyways, for three days nothing happened. My fourth shift went smooth, until I went on my patrol route at 1 AM. As I left the building and went to check the switch where the double tracked mainline ends, I thought I heard someone following me so I stopped. Not hearing anything, I kept going, hearing those footsteps again.

The guard turns his head to look around him. "Looking around, I shined my light around but I didn't see anyone at all. I got a bit irritated and thought it may be some demihuman teens being little smartasses, so I headed back inside. Once I sat down and checked the monitors though, I noticed someone in cam twelve staring into the west entrance of the Annex building."

The man stops, as if trying to find the right words to describe something. "It was a woman in a fucking raggedy-ass dress, She looked high as kite, the cams aren't that great because there all mounted really high up to look out for incoming trains, y'know? So I decided to go check and tell her she was trespassing and escort her off the property. I grabbed my light, and headed out to see this bitch off. We have this long corridor to the west entrance because this Annex building also houses the Maintenance Of Way, or M.O.W. crew offices for the railway."

Ryan concentrates on this once he hears this. Normally he wouldn't listen since no Marines are known for lying about what happened normally. As an intel officer, Ryan must take everything into a pile, and then assess the data for what is true and what isn't. Gather, assess, and process.

The man seemed to pause for a moment, "As I got closer, I got a really good look at her face… It was unnaturally pale, like a corpse. Hair was matted, falling out and almost animal-like... Her eyes seemed really listless as I got closer, almost hollow and completely white. But her mouth wasn't normal… It was like someone ripped her jaw off and put it back on crooked. The teeth inside it were absolutely fucking massive, as big as a Grizzly's. She was drooling like a beast, as she was starving for food. Now, being a marine back in the days of the 'Reclamation War', I've seen some shit, but this was nothing like I'd seen before."

Ryan follows along, trying to figure out any known mutant files that may fit the description. The guard raised his hands. "I just stopped in my tracks, mind suddenly racing back to the first of those three rules. Don't leave the office if a woman appears in a rag dress. I broke that rule, but was still inside the building staring at this monstrosity. I nearly jumped through the damn ceiling when she raised a hand and rested it on the glass, but in place of her fingers were six inch claws like a bear but thinner and like…a rusty red. Like it was painted in dry blood or something."

The guard thinks about it for a moment. "Dunno what the fuck it was though. Maybe it was already that color or just the lighting. But no demihuman has claws like that, almost seemed like they'd torn through her fingers and replaced her bones inside them."

The flannel shirt guy takes a swig of his beer and shakes his head slowly in disbelief. The guard curled his hand into a claw, dragging it down in front of him. "It began to slowly rake them along the window and door like it was a fucking horror movie. That door, mind you, is pressed steel, but that "thing" might as well have the tools to rip the door off an up-armored Humvee. I slowly began backing away, reaching for my radio on my hip to call my supervisor, and ask for help."

At this point, Ryan can see this grizzled war veteran is shaken by the memories. His eyes are the door to his soul, and in his interrogation class, the eyes are all telling. The guard's eyes show absolute dread and paranoia. This wasn't some bar tale, it has merit to it. Ryan himself is floored and physically uncomfortable at this but keeps a poker face and his attention on himself as an undercover agent.

His voice shifted into a really quiet tone. "Then… It called my name. 'Fitz… Fitz…' in this…unholy voice. It was like something like a drowning scream and someone trying to talk after you stab them in the neck. This thing knew my name! No one knows my name unless you're friend, colleague, relative, or a fucking CFI spook who knows everyone in this shithole minus Danmark's or our barrarks." The guard's shoulders shudder.

Ryan at this point himself is beginning to have doubts about his new promotion Clay issued him earlier. He also frowned at his remark about the city. Sure, it may have its flaws but to him, it's a bastion for humanity. He is definitely going to dig into every Originium creature and radioactive cryptid file in the database and flag any of these creatures that fit as 'High threat' class B+. Which will be issued as warnings to any future missions with lots of known beast threats for all branches.

He wondered if the guy he knows whose two admirers who work at The Snowberry Tap had told him about, if he had heard of similar events. The guy is a Black Eagle operator, only issue is, only CFI takes on such missions exterminating anything not Originum or above a class 1 Radioactive mutant. The files also held any 'man made' beasts but every time he tried to view them, he got locked out after several minutes. So maybe stories like this Marine, is all he'll have.

CFI kept all files and anomalies under wraps to keep the public in the dark for good reason. Commissar Forrestal also kept any Nazi or Soviet activities under the radar too, since several incidents in the past have more than just threatened Missoula city. Ryan recalled browsing hours of those files and reports, which he more than enjoyed. But this is new, and more than just unsettling…

The guard continues grimly, his hand turning his glass slowly in hand. "I fuck-all booked it back into the guard office, closed that door and locked myself inside. I called my Sup' and began to yell over the radio that something was trying to break into the west door. He didn't immediately answer, just asked if I'd left the office when she appeared. I said yes, but never left the building, only got halfway before turning around and locking myself inside." Flannel shirt guy looks up in some form of shock.

"He told me to stay inside, do not open that door even if you hear her on the other side. Backup was like, maybe ten minutes away so I just checked all the cameras, stopping on twelve. She was still there, but I could hear the scrapping getting louder and more intense. This thing was gonna break in and I don't think my forty-five ACP I had in the desk would even make it flinch." The guard's voice seemed to convey a desperate tone.

He sighed, running a hand over his head. "It felt like an eternity as I waited for backup. It kept calling my name, and then I really pissed myself when the window shattered. Fucker would disembowl me worse than any Originum-infected demihuman group I'd ever seen do to hostages. I guess I got lucky since I saw on cam 5 a trio of our armored trucks race into the compound and stop in our parking lot."

Leaning forward, he gets a bit more animated. "About twenty guys in night-black riot gear outfitted head to toe, armed with those big AR-style shotguns, all got out. They had the cleanest gear I'd ever seen, pfft. Clearly these weren't the sort of guys that sat in a trench or guard post for twenty hours. They weren't ours though, none of us dress like that or have any body armor worth a damn, let alone fuckin' full riot gear."

Ryan knew who he was talking about. He was taught about coordinating these guys in his later online command-post class. CFI kill-team 006F. He knew they existed, and heard rumors about the blacked out buses but this was a first from a real encounter. 006F were all ex-BEC operators but no one knew who since once you join, you don't exist to the outside world anymore. Like apparitions, they appear out of thin air, strike, and disappear. No files on them were in the database, only Clay had those in his personal safe in his office.

'Did Clay know about this mission? Did they do this all the time in secret? Is that why 006F didn't exist, because these monsters 'don't exist?' He wondered thoughtfully. He really questioned what the black ops actually did if they existed, because if they did, Clay's earlier statement was correct. The CFI are ghosts, and if they wanted you, you'd never even know it until you woke up in the afterlife.

The marine goes to drink a sip of his whiskey, and his buddy pipes up. "Who were these guys? Black Eagle Company? I mean, who else could be that clean?" His voice filled with anticipation and curiosity.

"No, BEC never rolls in like that or dresses like the phantom himself. Even BEC gets into the thick of things with the rest of us. Back during the occupation of Salt Lake City, one of the officials in charge there started getting a big head and tried to stage a coup. Y'know, another pointless power grab," The guard states nonchalantly, "But we got a call about this group of operators who were coming in known only as '006F'. I had no clue who they were, no one from BEC that's for sure, because the Daggers who were out there with us confirmed it. But a day later and this gonk and his loyal cronies all died to suicides, or so we were told. Found dead on the steps at the foot of the large crapital building, their bodies splattered across them. Guess they wanted to make an example of 'em." The guard mocks the word capital with a grin. His friend's eyes go wide.

"My commander, when we asked who '006F' was, said it was CFI's personal black ops squad. 'Specter Ops' was his preferred term for them, since they were the Grim Reaper incarnate and only took orders from the Commissar himself. So once they stopped and got out, one guy raised his left hand and did something. Immediately all the cameras go static and I can't see a fucking thing. But then I heard the west side door begin to tear out of its heavy frame as this thing attempted to enter only for it to suddenly stop. Thank fuck it also stopped calling my name." He shakes his head, downing the whole glass.

Ryan is in awe at this, and also a little disturbed. Could Clay make him disappear too? He shook his head going back to his breathing training and taking a swig of his beer. The ex-marine takes a deep breath, "Then I heard it. It must've noticed that we weren't alone, and let out the loudest sound I have ever heard from a creature. It was like a piece of rusty metal scraping on concrete, nothing remotely human nor animal can make a noise like that. Immediately, I grabbed my forty-five off the desk. Lemme tell you, I was spooked to hell and back!"

His voice shakes at the mention of it, "Then a fuckload of automatic shotgun fire erupted down the hall, as well as the monster running around screaming and hissing a storm as some form of battle as rough as one from World War Three from the sheer amount of noise and gunfire. About ten seconds later it just stopped. But not like it normally does in encounters where it slowly drops out, but like 'turned the lights off' fast. I hear someone break the door open, and heavy ass footsteps coming to the office before a knock and someone outside." Ryan begins to tense up.

"'You can come out now, Officer Fitzgerald.' A man's calm but tired voice said from the door. I put the gun at a low ready position just in case this thing was trying to lure me out. Opening the door, and shining my flashlight into the hallway, the masked out faces of three guys appear. I pocketed the pistol and fucking bear hugged the nearest dude. He seemed to less than appreciate a marine's tender affection. I was just so thankful that the utter shitshow was over, and we all walked out of the Annex office." The guard seems calmer now as if he was relieved.

Looking at the door as we passed it, minus the dent from a battering ram, I could not begin to tell you the damage that door had on it. Six inch steel cut like butter, and tears right through that fucker. I was sure no armor we had unless you were in a damn tank would have protected me. On the aluminum siding was more bullet holes, blood, and charnel flesh than I saw after we shelled the shit out of the Red River Raiders at Kenosha on the shores of Lake Michigan. I asked them if they got whatever that thing was, and was horrified when they said 'no'. I knew something was scuffed then, and I would probably be taken in for further questioning. After this incident? No way was I gonna just waltz off, right?" The guard says, his expression grim.

The guard shook his head in disbelief, throwing up his hands in admittance. "How that thing managed to survive that and get away is 'cause of the fucking Devil himself, I guess. God really has forsaken us I think at this point. But looking around at the rest of these black ops guys, I noticed two of them on the ground. One was sitting down against the building bandaging up a nasty bite or cut to his right hand, and the other was lying on his back moaning in pain under his heavy gear. A few others were assisting him, but his chest armor, four ceramic plates and all, were ripped off to the side with several plates having been shattered completely."

The guard made a mind-blown gesture with his hands. "Only ever saw men who got shelled by eighty-eights or those massive soviet two hundred and five millimeter siege guns have armor like that destroyed. But those guys also were fucking dead bastards, head, arms and legs normally vaporized. It doesn't matter if you're in a tank in some of those cases."

He grimaced as he recalled the sight. "He was fucking messed up, his stomach was opened like someone cleaved it with a huge surgeon's blade. The poor bastard was bleeding but I knew he would make it since none of his vitals were torn or gone as long as he got to a surgeon in time. It was one of the most awful and surreal things I've seen in nearly forty-two years. Eight of them are in the armed forces."

"I asked them what the everlovin' fuck that thing was and the guy from earlier just said," the guard leans in conspiratorily. "'It's just something that doesn't exist, and you aren't going to speak of this or more importantly, us to your colleague who is relieving you in two hours. After all, bears frequent areas in the valley before the snow flies. They break into houses on occasion. Don't worry about it. Just ghosts that are all in your head.'"

Ryan takes a deep breath, trying to process this. He honestly was starting to think this story was a nice bar tale, but 006F? Almost no one knew the 006F existed, let alone the name 006F. The guard shakes his head, "I got leave for two days after that incident which I used to mentally recover by fishing trips up at Lake McDonald in Glacier Park. My boss hasn't pressed me about it and I won't either. I may be a dumbfuck atheist with PTSD from war, but now I fucking believe that there are things out there, things worse than even those ten foot tall unholy mut-freaks with faces so wasted, you'd think they'd come from the seventh layer of Purgatory."

His flannel shirt companion was silent. The guard stared into his glass in thought. "I haven't seen anything like it since. I even put a request to transfer to a bank truck driver. I know the pay is a third what I get now, but I sure as shit… Don't ever wanna see that "thing" again." He sighs, and throws his head back downing a second shot.

Ryan turns down to his drink, and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. He didn't wanna mention this to Clay but if 006F couldn't take that monster down, then it might take nothing short of a miracle or a Nuclear weapon of some sort, maybe a bioweapon too. His mind turns to the Kragen Corps and what he knows so far. What if they brought a whole army of those things up? Is that how they won so many battles? Would we even stand a chance? Oh God, what about Jesibelle?'

The junior begins to spiral in his thoughts, until a thick french voice brings his head up. "Ryan, monsieur, what the hell are you doing here in this dump?! Don't tell me Trex drove you here in that oversized brothel on wheels he has! This is no place for an agent like you, drinking in this ghastly and degenerate rathole! Get up, we are going to my car right now!"

The man in his custom tailored dark blue suit with a matching Trandell hat stands in front of his booth. Clay is definitely pissed, and grabs the boy's collar. Dragging him out of his seat, the Commissar escorted him outside. Ryan really hated it when Clay did embarrassing stuff like this. People in the bar and entrance seem shocked to see the Commissar himself here, some definitely are terrified as everyone gave him a wide berth. As they should be, since a lot of past criminals came here only to be taken away and never seen again.

Clay escorts him forcefully out to a beautiful rare Porsche nine-eleven, its body a polished midnight blue. "Get in." is all Clay says before letting him go. Ryan, a bit stunned and more than a little embarrassed, gets seated inside the sportscar. Clay sits down, and presses the 'start' button on the left side of the steerwheel on the dash. The nine hundred horse engine growls to life, and Clay rips out of the parking space and speeds down main street heading for the Plaza.

Clay rounds on Ryan, his expression the very picture of a disappointed uncle. "Just whatin the fuck were you thinking, Ryan!? I give you a promotion and you go right off to the most degenerate bar in this city!? No, I will not tolerate this!"

His grip tightens on the wheel. "You represent the CFI, the most elite group of agents in what's left of this country. Think of how our image would appear if our agents slummed it up in some underground brothel in town with far better options available!? No wonder Trex is a courier driver! He was probably fired for sleeping around like some hormone-driven high schooler who thinks he can fuck even the Originum-infected demihumans in this place! So, what excuse do you have this time, boy?" He glares at Ryan with eyes that could freeze a hundred demihuman terrorists.

Ryan looks down, disappointed at himself, but not surprised he was found. After all, Clay's nickname "Eye's of Priestess" wasn't a joke. He had enough eyes and ears everywhere in this city to make the last groups of KGB or SS envious of his surveillance. "I normally go to the gaming lounge 'Team Ten' or 'The Snowberry Tap.'"

He shrugged tentatively. "But I didn't have the money since those are both in the Capital Plaza, but you probably already know where I go. My promotion may be three steps up from an E2 paycheck, but the paperwork for an E5 must've not been done so my pay was still E2. I-I'm sorry boss."

Clay shakes his head, his face tightens. "Did they never tell you that as CFI, you get free admission to the city above E3? Just flash your ID card to the receptionist?" Clay looks over, "…Christ, Ryan. I am going to have a word with Agent Evans tomorrow. That buffoon thinks he can train my agents on everything but the details? Stupid amateur won't enjoy it if he takes your former position."

Clay's grips loosens a bit, but his facial expression says otherwise. The car races through the streets of downtown, heading right into the much more luxurious towers, cleaner streets, and high-end shopping districts. Clay steers into the round Plaza, where a large fountain in the middle is illuminated by LEDs and spraying water in a synchronized show. Pulling off Ryman Street, he drives the car into an elevated parking garage before pulling into a spot designated 'Commissary Agents' next to a large white Cadillac Escalade in the adjacent designated agents only spot Ryan recognizes.

"Here we are, The Snowberry Tap. An actual classy place, and one worth an agent's time. Come now, Ryan." Clay turns off the car and is followed by the younger agent.

The pair leave the parking garage for the Plaza, but Ryan recognizes the Cadillac from the one Jesibelle and her friends took earlier. Maybe this could be his lucky break if he can sneak out of Clay's watchful eye for a moment.

Heading to an historic white brick building that was a store at one point, now beautifully restored and remodeled into one of the most popular restaurants in the city. Black cursive letters with an orange backlighting spell out "The Snowberry Tap '' as they walk under. Clay opens the polished glass door and Ryan walks in.

No matter how many times he comes here, he's always awed at its beauty. The signature Aspen wood floors complement the black, artistically curved ceiling with modern hanging lights, and white trimmed walls. In the front room are the neo modern accent tables with big redwood and brown leather padded seats.

With the back having a large turn-of-the century steel spiral staircase going to the rooftop lounge, where most events took place or reservations for elites conducting business. The pair wait to be seated at the front before noticing an employee heading over to them.

Greeting them was a young woman, a Perro with chest-length black hair, and two cute, drooping dog ears of matching color that blended in almost seamlessly with her hair. Her sensual curves and large bust made for a very appealing sight to any who looked upon her, her hips swaying gently with every step as she made her way over. She was dressed in a black waitresses skirt, but with an apron with pockets for her notepad, pen, and credit card scanner. A gold name tag displayed the name "Savannah" on it. The woman had bright, lively hazel eyes and a friendly smile as she approached.

Ryan recognized the pretty Perro girl in front of him, as he was a brief regular. On more than one occasion, she had helped him with advice on Jesibelle whenever he's been depressed or doubtful, and had been there to cheer him up with a glass of Moufic, a specialty drink shaken up right here. He smiled at her, as he was grateful for her kindness.

"Hello, Commissar Forrestal. Hello, Agent Ryan, I shall be your waitress for tonight!" She says, bowing her head a bit before leading them to a more secluded table in the back away from the more packed entrance.

"Now, what can I get started for you, tonight?" Her sweet and soothing voice makes Ryan want to melt into his chair and just relax. Clay thankfully seems calm now, and takes a look at the drinks menu on the table next to the oil candle.

"I shall take a Domaine Leflaive Montrachet Grand Cru, Madamé. Ryan as well. Thank you." He says tipping his head down, and sliding off his hat. Ryan takes his flashy jacket off and hangs it on his seat back.

Clay then inquired about what's on the specials menu for dinner, "So, I assume you have a special or two on lé board?"

"Oh yes, we do," Savannah nodded enthusiastically. "Tonight's Special is 'Ryugin', fish with White Asparagus. A local delicacy from the old oversea city of Tokyo, Japan." She pulled out her notepad and pen in preparation for their orders.

"We'll have two, please, Miss Savannah!" Ryan cut in with excitement. Clay rolled his eyes, before nodding in agreement.

Savannah smiled softly at Ryan's enthusiasm before writing the orders down. "Thank you. I'll have someone bring your drinks out to you, okay?"

Clay nodded and the pair waited for her to return. As they waited, Ryan looked around to see if Jesibelle's friend group was nearby but he didn't see her. Clay immediately caught onto him.

"You seem like you've lost something, ami. If you are looking for the girl, you might want to hold back. After all, it isn't the end of the world." He said, eyes softly looking at his big silver watch before looking at his younger partner.

"Oh come on man, look. I gotta make a move at some point, I just have to! W-what if I get sent out tomorrow as a field agent, a-an-and I get shot in the chest or something! Or a large chunk of Originium falls on my head?!" Ryan sputtered, withholding a wince at the thought.

Clay chuckled softly. "You really need to help yourself to this one, friend. You still have to complete your training as a combat agent and also pass a whole new psy-ops test. Don't worry about getting wrapped up with women right now. I myself have a finance, twelve year old daughter, and five year-old son. She was in the army reserve forces, and I was a field agent when I met her. I didn't make any moves though and waited until I was promoted to the position I have now."

The head agent paused for a moment, giving the young man a searching look. "It doesn't hurt to wait a while for someone important, Ryan. After all, Agent Jesibelle is a pretty girl, yes, but do you really know if she's the one?"

Ryan took a moment to think about it. "N-no… I just.. Is it too much to ask for a guy like me to want a connection with a girl? I mean, my Ma is a good woman, but ever since Pops got his head nerfed, she's never been there, like present in herself. You know what I'm trying to say?"

Clay sighed knowingly. "I do. And please, refrain from using the term…'nerfed.' He wasn't just murdered. I supposed you overheard the rumors and stories of our "friends" in certain large blacked-out armored coaches?"

Ryan nodded slightly, remembering the story from earlier he overheard along with the rumors.

Clay spoke quietly enough that no one besides Ryan could hear, "Your father was one of these operators. Code name Whitefish. He was the best black ops operator I had the pleasure of knowing and working with while I was an adviser to my previous Commissar, Monsieur Harrison. He was a leader in Black Eagle's Gladius Squadron before he joined Black Ops. Colonel Rowsdower gave him a shining letter of recommendation to Commissar Harrison and he was immediately given command of our team, codenamed 'Specter Sickle.' He was the most successful squad leader we had, and will probably ever have."

Ryan was shocked to hear this. He was always told his father was mugged in an alley on the northside of Kalispell when he worked for the railway. Clay closed his eyes in remembrance. "Then he was deployed to assault an aging Soviet-German laboratory on the East Coast… We never heard back from them once they entered the underground sector. Since his identity would compromise Specter Sickle, we had to lie on his death certificate for your mother, and for all the others lost," He says with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"We later found out it wasn't the KGB protecting that base, but a whole Festung division protecting the labs. They walked right into the beast's jaws, no amount of training could've saved them." Clay was silent for a moment. "You have the potential and capability to be as good as your father. You showed that today by taking action when needed by your superiors. I am proud of that, so you should be too, you know? Even though I received a few minor complaints by senior agents, you did what they wouldn't have done."

Clay gave Ryan a soft glance, and Ryan sighed. "Yeah, yeah… Maybe things will get better, you know? I suppose once I start training I'll have something to focus on."

"That's my boy," Clay stated, his voice carrying a bit of pep. Their brief discussion was interrupted when another employee approached.

The employee, a barista, had light auburn hair that draped down her back with fox ears of matching color perked up attentively atop her head. The woman, a Vulpo, had lovely red eyes that held a beautiful shine. She had a very eye-catching figure, with pronounced curves at the waist and hips. Her sizable bust bounced a bit as she moved, effortlessly drawing the eyes of any man who happened to be looking. She wore a black miniskirt with black pantyhose that hugged her shapely legs, and a barista apron attached to her uniform. Her golden name tag read 'Salem' on it, and she wore a mirthful expression on her face, her bushy tail flouncing as she strutted over.

"Hey there, boys! You're in for a good time tonight, this special is to die for!" Her voice was light and tinged with a hint of playfulness, "Here is your wine! And my, my! Supervisor to the Citadel's finest, Mr. Forrestal! What a surprise, it's an honor to have you visit us on this lovely night."

Clay smiled politely, "Cher, you don't need to address me in such a way, I have only come with my good colleague and more importantly, our newest field agent on his promotional celebration." His gaze slid over to Ryan pointedly.

Ryan's cheeks flushed, knowing this woman will most definitely gossip about this. "Heh… It's not like that-I mean—" She interrupted him with a look of pleasant surprise.

"Oh, well congratulations Rye!" She smiled approvingly, a bit proud of him. Her smile quickly turned teasing however, as she winked at him. "See? I told you you'd be on the fast track to Commissar."

Ryan got a hearty laugh at that. Clay tried to look disapproving but couldn't hide a slight smile. Taking a sip of his wine, the young hacker opened his eyes wide in shock. "Oh wow, this is mint stuff! Guess the boss has a good taste after all."

Clay raised a brow at Ryan's disbelief. "Côte de Beaune, France wasn't known for nothing, ami. After all, a vintage that costs around twenty five thousand better live up to its name."

At the exorbitant price that's more than an entire year's worth of his pay, Ryan nearly spit out his next sip in shock. Salem laughed, waving her hand at him playfully. "Oh Ryan, you silly boy! Mr. Forrestal is a very particular man with his habits. Take for example his watch, it's a Rolex Cosmograph Daytona. Or his choice in cars, or even how he walks—right down to how he enters a room."

Her smile shifted into a devious smirk. "You're not just talking to anyone, he's Mr. Bougee."

Suddenly a shout comes from the bar in the corner. "Salem! We got four CEOs tonight on the roof! Stop chatting and get back to work!"

The girl jumped a bit, her ears straightening in surprise as she quickly leapt back. "Yes, sir! Oh and Ryan…"

Getting the young man's attention, Salem quickly leaned into his ear, "Miss Jesibelle is on the roof if you're curious~."

With her tease complete, she left with a little skip to her step, her tail swishing to and fro. Clay huffed, gesturing towards the departing demihuman, "You need to consider a wife like her, ami. She is your type to a T. Aside from being a demihuman, of course."

Ryan scratched his head slightly. "Ah, well she already has someone she likes, so…" He shrugged, but suddenly someone caught his eye.

Walking down from the upper lounge behind them was Jesibelle herself, now in a rather scandalous satin red dress that hugged her curvy hips and had a rose design on her chest. Her hair was done in braided twin tails and flowed down her back.

She and another friend headed over to the bar and took a seat, with Ryan absolutely enthralled by the breathtaking sight.

"Oh my god..! You have got to be kidding me!" He said in a trance. Clay looked up from his phone he was texting his wife on and then over at the pair opposite of them.

"I will admit, sport, you have a very good eye for beauty, despite not being able to keep your desk clean." He says plainly before going back to texting someone.

"Go eat a salad, old man!" Ryan jabs back, but this only makes Clay chuckle. The pair had a good friendship, and it showed in moments like this.

It was at this moment that Savannah returned with two server's plates in her hands. Their dinner was placed on the table before each of them with her signature sweet smile. "Here you go! I hope you both enjoy your meal!"

The pair thanked her before she left to go serve other tables. Ryan kept glancing at his sweetheart and Clay, unknowing on the hacker's internal struggles, simply thought about his finances and the wedding that would take place in two months.