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Chapter 4
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Another restless night. He made sure not to wake her this time as he rose, slowly placing the sheets back upon the bed. He looked around the room, his gaze finally resting on a white object that lay upon the bedside table. It was a mask. He took it into his hands, and ran his fingers across its surface. Its narrowed eyeholes stared back at him; the only indication of the face that lay beneath.
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Chapter 4
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Past Chapters
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Another restless night. He made sure not to wake her this time as he rose, slowly placing the sheets back upon the bed. He looked around the room, his gaze finally resting on a white object that lay upon the bedside table. It was a mask. He took it into his hands, and ran his fingers across its surface. Its narrowed eyeholes stared back at him; the only indication of the face that lay beneath.
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The door opened, and Akko let out an exasperated sigh as another interrogator stepped into the dimly lit room. An older man, perhaps in the latter years of middle age, loosened his tie as he walked to the table and gathered up the papers lying there. From his seat at the table in the center of the windowless room, Akko watched as the man, flipped through the writings and notes of the last four people who’d come and gone. In each of the adjacent corners on either side of the door facing Akko, was a Veldt, standing guard over him. They had not moved once since Akko had entered the room. Akko noted the speed at which they had been mobilized and put into immediate support positions within the police force. As his eyes cut from one Veldt to the other, he wondered what the urgency that caused this abruptness was. He put the thought aside as the officer tossed the papers onto the table in front of Akko and ran his fingers through his graying short cropped hair.
“You should have reported to the police instead,” he said as he lit a cigarette, “or at least gave us the heads up. We’re not against moving on information, now that we’ve got these guys.” He motioned to the Veldt.
He gestured with the hand holding the cigarette, to the papers in front of Akko.
“You said there that you saw the younger Nikita leave the party, and returned home to a dead brother. What do you—”
“It’s been three hours,” Akko said sternly, his patience at an end, “I’ve told you everything I know, what more do you need?”
The officer put his fists onto the table and leaned forward, staring Akko in the eyes. His gaze was not that of intensity or anger, but it was a firm gaze all the same. The smoke from the cigarette, wafting into Akko’s face, but he maintained the returning glare.
“The truth,” he said, his voice low and direct. “Not only are you charged with disturbing the peace, but damaging private property, breaking and entering, as well as assault and battery, and here’s something— we found three dead bodies on the premises. We’re going to try our hardest to put those on some Aduri, but you and I both know who really did it. We could put you away for a long time if we sent these charges along.”
He rose back to an upright position, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and readjusting his cuff. Akko noted the way this man went about doing the simplest things, there seemed to be no wasted motion from him, each move held a purpose.
“All I want is the full story,” he continued, before putting the cigarette back to his lips
Akko leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands together, nodding his head towards the papers the officer held “Everything I know right there.”
The officer shook his head, tossing the papers onto the table, “You’re story doesn’t add up – it doesn’t make sense.”
He looked away from Akko, taking a step away from the table, as if to contemplate his next words. Turning around once more to face Akko, he took a long pull of the cigarette before speaking.
“It doesn’t add up,” he said again as he gestured to Akko, “That the Syndicate would so vigorously pursue with an invitation to the point where they kill your brother because you turned them down.” He shook his head again, “The Syndicate doesn’t make blank statements, there’s always a reason, and a matter such as a rejection just doesn’t warrant much else of their time spent.”
Akko watched as the man began to a short pace, back and forth in front of him.
“You owed them money,” he offered, “and your brother’s life was the repayment? The Aduri always close their debts.” He stopped pacing, and turned to Akko once more, an eyebrow raised, “Or perhaps your brother was in cahoots with the Syndicate, and things went south?”
Knowing the man was just fishing, but outraged all the same at the accusation that his brother would be in league with the Syndicate; he sprung to his feet and slammed his fist onto the desk, wisps of flame encircling his hands. From the corners of the room, the two Veldt had their wands trained on Akko, ready to strike at any moment. Akko’s eyes glanced from one to the other, their faces hidden behind the white masks, revealing nothing. The interrogator in front of him took a final pull of the cigarette before flicking it away.
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Akko sat and watched from his cell as Aduri who’d also been arrested at Vikaeli’s estate, were released. He frowned as they passed, the fact that he knew whatever charges they had on them wouldn’t hold brought no joy to an already somber night. The guard behind the group stopped and turned to face Akko’s cell, unlocked the door and brought it open.
“Come on,” he said, “You’ve been bailed out.”
Getting to his feet, Akko stepped to the door, “By who?”
The guard shrugged, “I dunno, see for yourself.”
He followed the guard to the front of the station, where a well-dressed man looked up from a newspaper, and stood up as Akko and the guard drew near. He was stylishly bald man, slightly shorter than Akko, and wore a friendly smile as he thanked the guard, who mumbled something
“My name is Juri Tusen,” the man said.
“Akko Adregi,” he replied, shaking Juri’s hand. “But I’m sure you already knew that, so mind telling me why you bailed me out?”
“Certainly,” he said, clearing his throat. “I am the Chief Consult to the Head House of the Syndicate.”
Akko jerked his hand away as if he’d just been burned. His expression immediately turned to that of disgust.
“You’re an Aduri,” he said, spitting the word out as a bad taste in his mouth. His first thought was to punch the guy; he found himself clenching his fists to strike.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Juri said, noticing this. “I only ask that you hear me out first, then decide if that is still the best course of action.”
“You’ve got nothing I want to hear,” Akko replied, “as far as I’m concerned, every Aduri is as responsible for the death of my brother as the last.”
Juri raised an eyebrow quizzically, “So not at all?”
“What’re you getting at,” Akko asked warily.
Juri returned Akko’s fiery glare with that of solemn intent, “If you want to learn the truth, you will come with me.”
Akko stood silent for a moment, before rational intrigue outweighed his newfound hatred for the Syndicate. He nodded his agreement. As he followed Juri to the exit, he felt the eyes watching as they departed. Once outside, a black car sat in front of the station, an attendant holding the door open for them to enter. Juri gestured for Akko to go in first. Akko shook his head.
“After you,” he said
Juri chuckled, shaking his head as he stepped into the back of the car, followed closely by Akko. The chauffeur closed the door behind Akko, and walked around, getting into the driver’s seat.
“So start talking,” Akko said as they pulled off from the curb.
Juri turned to look out the window, before addressing Akko, “As I said before,” he began. “I am the Chief Consult to the leader of the Syndicate. Within that job, I represent the organization in court and work to maintain the red tape that keeps the government at bay. That is not my only job but the overall details to which my position entails is of no concern to you, but as lead representative for the Organization, it falls to me to send out members best suited to the task of acting as recruiters of sorts; working as the go between for scouting people as possible additions to the organization.”
Recalling the red headed woman who had come to him at the arena the other day, Akko nodded his understanding. The car made a sharp turn; Juri gave a quick glance out the window before turning back to Akko.
“It has come to my attention that you were given such an invitation,” he said, “of which, you turned down. Word has also come through of a brawl involving yourself and some of our Aduri. I don’t know who authorized the attack, but we do not work like that. We won’t try to strong-arm you into joining us— that’s not how we operate.”
Akko remained silent; he’d been trying to see where Juri was going with this, as what he was saying now, was of little interest to him. The car made another sharp turn, increasing in speed; Akko glanced at the driver, using the rear view mirror to catch his expression, but it remained unchanged. If these two are planning to attack me, their expressions aren’t telling, Akko thought, bringing his attention back to Juri as the car took another sharp turn.
“And we certainly wouldn’t kill someone because of a rejection,” his tone showing his amusement at the idea, “In the last few hours, we’ve gathered quite a bit of information regarding your brother’s death.”
“You’d know all about it since you’re the ones who did it,” Akko said.
“Have you not been listening?” Juri asked, slightly irritated. “We didn’t kill your brother.”
Akko about to make a spiteful remark, opened his mouth, but simply closed it again, unable to find the right words. Juri could see the look of confusion cross Akko’s face, and without him asking, he answered.
“As to who did it,” he said, “well that is not for me to answer.”
The car came to a halt, and the driver exited the car, coming around and opening Akko’s side of the door. Akko looked to the driver, and back at Juri.
“You said I’d learn the truth,” he said.
“And I’ve told you,” Juri replied.
Akko thought on it for a moment before speaking, “Then who—”
Juri raised his hand, cutting him off, “Enough for now, we’ll be in touch.”
The driver made a noise from outside the car, clearing his throat. Akko took the hint and began to exit the car. He turned and watched as the chauffeur returned to driver’s side of the car, and upon opening the door, he heard Juri speak.
“Good job, losing them back there.”
As the car drove off, he turned to the building in front of him, a hospital. After getting directions from the front desk, Akko found himself standing outside of the double doors to the hospital’s morgue. With a deep exhale, Akko walked through the doors and into the room. Though full of light, the beams emitted provided a small amount of light compared to that of the rest of the hospital. In the center of the room, lying on the steel table, a sheet tosses unceremoniously across his body, was Ulrich. His feet felt like cement as he made his way to the table, his hand reaching out to lift the cloth, to see his brother’s face one last time. No, he thought, lowering his hand to his side, I don’t want to see him this way. Looking up from the covered body, Akko had a moment in which he felt like he was being watched. His eyes swept around the room, resting on the darkened office to his right, but seeing nothing, he turned and left the room. After some wandering, he was able to find Sineca’s room. Upon opening the door, there she lay, the sheet moving up and down to her slow breathing. By her side was Pietro, his hands clasped together as he sat bent over in the chair, his eyes to the floor. He lifted his head as Akko came into the room.
“How’s she doing?” Akko asked, gesturing to Sin.
“She took a lot of damage to the back of her head,” Pietro said, “not to say the front wasn’t as bad.”
Akko nodded, “Do you mind?” gesturing to the chair in the corner.
Pietro gave a wave of his hand, “Please do.”
Akko brought the chair over next to Pietro. He watched his friend, the look on Pietro’s face showed that he had something to say, but unsure of how.
“Pietro?” he said, his voice low.
Pietro got to his feet, putting his back to Akko as he ran his fingers through his white hair.
“I understand that you are not to blame for my sister’s injuries,” Pietro said through gritted teeth, “because that would be blaming you for your own brother’s death.”
At this, Akko too got to his feet, took Pietro’s shoulder and turned him around to meet his eye.
“So you don’t say it because you think I’ve gone through enough tonight then? What excuse is that—you think I should have been more aware, that I should have suspected that they would be watching, following me? If you feel that my failure as a brother and as a friend allowed this to happen, so be it.”
Akko’s fists tightened; Pietro tensed, preparing for Akko to swing.
“Because I feel the same way.”
Pietro’s expression softened as he saw Akko trembling from head to toe. He reaches out to embrace him, but Akko pulls away, only for Pietro to tug at his shirt, pulling him closer. Akko struggled, but Pietro’s speed won out, pulling Akko close to him, he held his friend tight as his body heaved up and down.
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Malk was preparing for bed when a knock came from the door. After a quick check out of the window to see if the guards remained at the front gate, he made his way downstairs. To be on the safe side, he brought his gun along as he went to the door. With it firmly in his hands, he opened the door to see standing in the doorway, was a Veldt.
“For the record, you are terrible security,” Malk said. “I got left against the side of a house today.”
The Veldt gave no reply.
“Well come on in,” Malk says, stepping as the Veldt walked into the house, “have a seat somewhere.”
Malk went into the kitchen and began rummaging through his cabinet until he found what he was looking for.
“Would you like some coffee?” Malk called, and upon not getting an answer, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Once he’d returned with the coffee, placing a cup in front of the Veldt, he relaxed in the chair across from the Veldt, looking on at the masked man as he sipped his own coffee. The Veldt had removed the hooded cloak, allowing Malk to look upon the Veldt’s robes which were a dark purple, almost black it seemed, though there was also a lighter tone as well. The darker purple seemed to be the primary color of the attire, covering the torso, the overly long sleeves, and the outer layer of the lower robes, while the inner layer was a lighter tone of purple as well as the interior of the sleeves from what Malk could see. After noticing the way the robes were fitted against the torso under the light toned buckled leather short jacket armor, he saw that the torso wear was not connected to the sleeves, but the sleeves were connected to the short jacket, which was also connected to the high collar. The only thing that wasn’t purple, black, or connected with anything else was the buckled leather waist belt, covering from the top of the pelvic area to what looked like the lower ribs. Then there was the mask, the white mask upon which a thin purple carried down from the left eye, slanted slits that served as darkened eyeholes, and the mouth with its slight downward arc interrupted by a small slant upwards.
“That’s quite a getup you have there,” Malk said at last, putting his finished cup down.
The Veldt remained silent.
“You going to drink the coffee or what?” Malk asked
Again, the Veldt did not speak. Letting out a breath of defeat, Malk got to his feet and headed for the stairs, turning back as he made it to the bottom step, to the Veldt, still seated.
“There’s a guest room on the first floor, down the hall to your left,” he said.
Without another word, he continued on up the stairs.
ABOARD SKY DESTROYER OF SYNDICATE KONTIKOFF
The morning sun reflected off of the sleek steel of the Koff’s Class Three Sky Destroyer as Nikita’s plane closed in. A war machine in the sky, cannons lined both sides, while gun turrets were positioned along the ship’s flat top. The three thousand meter ship forward to aft, was similar in the shape to a large sword with an intricate handle. The elongated cylinder shaped engines were attached parallel to the ship on both sides, its refuse darkening the air as it left a trail of smog in its wake. The bridge, positioned at the end of the ship, was raised a number of decks above the rest of the ship. This allowed those inside to view from their aft position, up the ‘sword’ and to the bow. The middle neck of the ship curved inwards a ways before straightening out once more and ending in what, from afar looked to be a sharpened edge, but on closer inspection shown to be a blunt nose with a giant forward cannon.
Like gnats to fluorescent light, over a hundred fighter planes zipped in and around the ship, providing closed net air coverage. In the distance, the glint of steel among the clouds confirmed that other ships were not far away. The plane dipped to the right as the pilot began to maneuver through the fighters, flying the plane downwards to the ship’s underbelly. Running along the bottom of the destroyer were two rows of DekaForce Engines, circular rings within rings rotating within itself around a glowing center as the engines carried a low hum through the air. Dekamite was a black magnetic mineral that rested far below the surface of Alterus. The DekaForce Engines used electricity to counteract and amplify the magnetic properties, causing repulsive force against the ground based dekamite ore, allowing ships to seemingly float in the air. Normal diesel engines were used to push the ships forward, while diesel and dekamite were both used in the ship’s inner stabilizers to maintain a desired altitude.
The plane reared upwards as the pilot flew away from the craft, only to swivel around, righting himself to fly into the hangar bay entrance located in the front of the destroyer.
“None of the theatrics next time Dietmar,” Nikita said.
The pilot turned in his seat, a grin on his face, “What’s wrong uncle? Can’t have any fun on a ride to meet the Koff?”
“There’s no fun to be had when a Vikaeli meets with a Lambert,” Nikita replied coldly.
The grin left Dietmar almost instantly. He turned in his seat as the plane landed in the hangar. “Yes uncle,” he said in answer.
The Vikaeli kin exited the two man craft as a lanky curly haired gentleman came forward. Suspenders lay strapped upon his bare torso, while his trousers were splattered with grease, his face and hands akin to this as well. Dietmar leaned over to his uncle.
“Did the Koff simply pick the nearest relative to fetch us?”
Nikita smirked, but said nothing as the Lambert family member approached, a smile upon his dimpled face.
“Dux Vikaeli,” he said. “Pleasure to see you grace the ship once more. I’m to escort you to the Koff.”
Once they had acquired a driving cart, the group began to make its way through the ship. If it were not for the lack of uniforms or the nonexistent rhythmic beat of boots against steel as troops marched in formation, one would think that they were aboard a military craft. Each man held a serious nature to him as he went about his work, while minimal chatter accompanied the clanking of machinery and the whir of the engines. There was something to be said for the level of professionalism shown by the crew members, but Nikita did not share the Koff’s philosophy on ship management. He knew that the Koff’s crew held emergency drills frequently, and no doubt had held one prior to his boarding the vessel. This attested to the Koff’s paranoia; he wanted to his men to be ready for the, in his mind, inevitable treachery by unloyal Duxen. Nikita cared not for a strict professional environment. He believed that loyalty to their Dux and understanding between their fellow man would be enough to combat any threat just as well if not better, than the Koff’s forces.
“Here we are,” the Lambert kin declared.
They had stopped in front of a pair of large steel doors, the entrance guarded on each side by a pair of armed guards. With a nod from their escort, the guards about faced, turning around to reveal a keypad behind each of them then proceeded to press a series of numbers in quick succession. With a final ‘ping’, the guards turned back around as the steel doors slowly opened.
The chamber much resembled the traditional parlour room, its metal floor covered by an Arenami rug, upon which ornate furniture was positioned around the room. Guards lined the walls, though unlike the other armed men who walked throughout the ship in varying attire, these men dressed uniformly in long crimson battle skirts that went down to their calves, brown leather boots, and white dress shirts. At each man’s side was a pistol and a short sword holstered upon a leather utility belt. This was a nod to the old warrior’s style of ages past, before the unification. In the middle of the room, the Koff sat facing away from the door as he looked out of the paneled glass window that made up the entire far wall.
“Great kin, Dux Vikaeli has come before you,” the Lambert kin stated.
The Koff rose to his feet from the large armchair, and walked around to meet the Dux. Nikita stepped forward, with Dietmar and the other Lambert a step behind. Kontikoff Dirzo Lambert’s slicked back hair a faded white against his head as it fell to his gray suit, the lines of his face a mix of both wrinkles and scars, his build that of someone once solid, but had since grown soft with age. Though he was no longer an impressive figure, through the years, he had proven able to manage the Syndicate and maintain stability while other organizations had suffered internal wars and splinters, weakening their power. His bony hand held a cane as he came forward; its tap upon the floor was the only sound in the room. When they were upon each other, the two men wordlessly shook hands. The Koff’s piercing blue eyes meeting those of Nikita. The Dux released his grasp, and took a step back as young Lambert went forward to kiss his House Head’s ring, followed by Dietmar, and then the other Lambert again. In a matter of seconds, the Koff had already managed to disrespect the Vikaeli family. It was not out of order for the Lambert to present himself before Dietmar, but the act of a Lambert kissing the Koff’s hand after another had already done so was a disrespect reserved only for those of Vikaeli blood.
“Thank you Jakin,” the Koff said with a nod to his kin. “Fetch a chair for the Dux before you leave.”
The Koff continued to look at Nikita as he said this, looking for a reaction to the earlier action in his face, but Nikita gave him no such satisfaction, he never did. His nephew on the other hand, was not so adept at hiding his disgust. He turned to his uncle, a frown upon his face.
“I’ll be just outside uncle,” he said.
Jakin placed a chair across from where the Koff had been sitting, and followed Dietmar out of the room. The Kontikoff turned his gaze from the Dux and made his way to return to his seat, with Nikita taking the one across from him. Nikita waited as the Koff took his time
“I’ve gotten word of the return of the Veldt to the lands,” the Koff said. “I take it that is your reason for coming here, so do tell me the extent of this distasteful news.”
Nikita proceeded to inform in detail, the extent of the events that had transpired the night prior. As he did this, the Koff looked on, listening intently, his brow furrowing all the while. Once he had finished his tale, Nikita sat and waited for the Koff to speak.
“The news you’ve given me is very disconcerting,” Dirzo said, at last.
Nikita said nothing; he knew there was more to come.
“The Veldt have killed the other Adregi boy,” he went on. “We can only infer that they too know of the prophecy. This entire thing, I’ve been expecting something of this sort ever since hearing the seers’ prophecy. It’s beginning to unfold.” He sighed, “Troubling times are ahead of us.”
“Are you certain about this prophecy then?” Nikita asked. “Are you certain about Adregi, is he really the one?”
“Do you question the words of the seers’?” Dirzo declared questioningly. “Moreso, do you question the Kontikoff?”
“It is my job to question you Koff,” Nikita replied, his voice level. “It is my house that would pay more immediately, than any other, for any actions you undertake in Alter City. I’m only looking out for my people, while your belief in these seers’ could destabilize everything we’ve worked for in Alter City.”
Nikita knew that his accusation was an overstatement, but it was not too far from the truth.
“And how did you come to that conclusion Vikaeli?” Dirzo asked.
“He’s likely told the police, and if they haven’t already, they will keep an eye on him and wait until we’ve contacted him again,” Nikita answered. “Then they’ll take him in again and make him a double agent, and now we’ve got a mole in the Syndicate feeding them information all because you won’t let me kill him.”
He’d found himself raising his voice, having let his emotions get the better of him. He calmed himself before the Koff before continuing.
“What do you say to that then?” he asked.
“Everything remains according to plan.”
