"And what does a marketing manager do exactly?", the man sitting across the table asked impatiently, the pen tapping loudly against the metal. He glanced at her across the thick glasses on his nose. His voice carried a sneer and lack of care that left her astonished as to why someone would do this job if they hated it so much.

Valentina had her forehead on the edge of the table and rubbed her eyes, sleep almost consuming her as she sat in the rectangular, cold room. It's been hours. Hours since they arrived at some ministry building. The Inspector had dropped them off in the capable hands of some official, and a group of guards, armed to the teeth. The trio had been lead through an underground complex into different rooms. Regret washed over her now. Sleep was available in abundance on the Marie Eclaire, yet somehow it didn't occur to her to cease the opportunity when it had presented itself to her. She yawned.

For a governmental seat, the ministry was small. Comparing it to the Palazzo del Quirinale would probably be too much to ask, yet the ministry building and the Empress' palace entrance were directly adjacent, extended further by additional ministries on the other side of the palace. Maybe French Sicily was more akin to small countries, Luxembourgh came to mind here, and the title "Empress" was misleading as to its power and reign. The Uppersider wasn't convinced. Forming her ideas and drawing conclusions had been a tough task, not only increased in difficulty by her mind becoming increasingly tired. Since arrival she'd only seen this room. Food hadn't been provided, just water, that tasted stale and old. The official opposite of her was number three, name and title unknown, the questions had been the same.

Official C, as she had started to call the third iteration of the protocol droids, stopped tapping and glared at her intently. "Miss Neubauer!", he repeated. Valentina lifted her head and looked at the man with bloodshot eyes, "Yeah?". "What does a marketing manager do exactly!", the words were uttered without accent. A sigh escaped her. "Third time's the charm. A marketing manager's roles differ between companies, but in general they plan campaigns to increase the sales of a product and support the development of a company's image", a headache built inside her head, intensity largely dependent on how much her eyes focused on Official C. "Your description seems to vary, every time you give it. It seems to me that this job is a fabrication", the bookworm concluded when he compared notes with Official A and B. "Of course, genius. If you had Wikipedia, I could quote that. Not to mention that the Underside lacks any context to understand the need to have this job", her tone grew in both volume and frustration, "No one has ever heard of market and marketing research, your economy is still stuck in the industrial revolution or something".

Both eyebrows shot up at the outburst. Not Official C, or any other, had heard her explode until now. Scribbling into a free section on his documentation, the pen made some scratching noises. C's lungs produced a rasping sound and he coughed repeatedly. The dampness of these underground rooms must get to people working here. Part of her felt sorry for the guy. "You will have to explain market research, marketing research and industrial revolution to me", he calmly noted and glanced at her across the thick glasses again. When her fingers pushed into her hair, the rubber holding it into a pony tail came loose and her unwashed mane fell down. It felt oily to her, definitely required extensive care otherwise the brunette colour would gloss black and repulse her. "For fucks sake, send me someone with an economic background. Maybe they will be able to make heads and tails from this...", it clanged loudly as her forehead slammed against the edge of the table, mind and body unable to go on.

***

When she had fallen asleep multiple times on the table while discussing with an economic adviser to the Empress, they finally granted her a bed. Turned out that this world wasn't nearly as hopeless and outdated as first assumed. The Underside had made a remarkable amount of inventions, industrial revolution a distant past for them as well. Somehow they lacked radio technology, cable-based technology was in high demand. Plans had been made to put undersea cables between islands, too. Many of their advances were already better than whatever the Europeans had in the 1940s, especially when it came to naval technology. Most islands were small and required little transportation across land, Sainte Monique as one of the largest inhabited islands being one outlier. According to the adviser each island produced and improved their own goods, news of which travelled by word of mouth. Consumerism worked differently here, people directly ordered from the source by employing a merchant who would not only guarantee a rate, but also take care of pickup and delivery. Without a concentration of the population in larger cities, stockpiling made no sense, especially with the inhabitants spread across so many islands. Her memory returned to the map that Whitebeard had shown her. It made sense to her.

Luckily the adviser hadn't been stupid. He immediately caught onto the idea that a producing island could essentially send advertisements through merchants into larger populated areas to increase demand. Scepticism prevailed however when she suggested that island dwellers could visit far away islands to do research and create advertisements specifically designed for these islands. "Wouldn't that be manipulative?", he had asked her. Only response she had to offer was a shrug and a weak grin. Marketing was always manipulative. At least this debate had convinced Official C, the adviser's intrigued questions helped, that she was no spy. Her origin as an Uppersider had circumstantial evidence now, enough of that to let her rest up.

Sleep came to her quickly and didn't hold any surprises. It was dreamless and they allowed her to wake up on her own. Valentina rolled to the side and groaned in pain. Many muscle groups all over her back ached. No one prepared her body for sleeping in thick, warm work clothes on a hard, small plank bed. "Hear hear, sleepin' beauty's awake!", a male voice echoed into her tiny cell. When they had brought her in, her brain didn't register it, sleep deprivation the biggest concern. A quick glance around made her realise, it was a small cell. Barred window and door, plank bed, bucket, that was it. In a corner she found her bag of clothes, dirt clung to the fabric of the bag. Someone had shoved it across a similarly dirty floor, probably even in this cell. A grimace appeared on her face and her body made her aware that she needed to follow nature's call. "Too good for us, eh?", the voice taunted her and two more unknown let out a giggle.

Relieved, Valentina sat on the plank bed, back resting against the wall and retied her pony tail. The hair felt dirty now, just dirty. "Probably am, but don't let that stop you!", the Uppersider yelled and met laughter. Another person, a dark female voice probably, said, "Don't mind Rain, he's just good at hitting stuff. Looks like they kept you a lot longer than us. And here I thought Rain here was the spy!". "Righta, typical of y'all. Turn against the one guy!", Rain sneered and another female voice laughed, it was high pitched and felt unusual, "Serves you right!", then the pronunciation and pitch changed drastically before the woman continued, "Should'a learned a different profession, mate". "Who the hell are you people?", Valentina interrupted them, curious and irritated at the same time.

The woman who had spoken first responded while Rain just grunted, miffed, "You've met Rain and me on the Marie Eclaire already. I am Janet. And the snarky one? That's Madison". Rain added with a grumble, "Both are snarky. Wish they'd make up their mind who's speaking". "Uh, nice to meet you all? I'm Valentina", she ignored Rain's comment and introduced herself instead with a kind smile, one hidden behind the cell walls. "Nice to meet you", Madison said with a high pitch and then added in lower volume, "Likewise". The Uppersider frowned at the response, something Janet seemed to have guessed, "Madison is two people in one body, Valentina. You'll get used to them". Rain chuckled, "As if!". Valentina assumed that the person had a severe case of schizophrenia. Or something similar. Two people in a single body, switching at a whim. Today started out different from how she could've imagined.

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***

For some unknown reason, no one else joined their little quartet for a day. No one got taken, no one brought in additionally. They received food, that tasted bland and reminded her of childhood when her mother cooked a mix of veggies and tubers. Prison food probably wasn't healthy, while her mother's food was healthy. Melancholy took a hold of her. Lately her mind wandered less often to her previous life, stress and pressure occupying her brain most of the time. Now that an image of her mother flashed before her mental eyes, she thought of Alessia and Greta, of Uncle Remi and mother, of her old life. By the time she pulled out of it, someone unlocked the door. Two guards equipped with a sword on the belt and a gun at the ready. They pointed at her dirty sack of clothes and she shouldered it, "Am I gonna get out of here now? Wouldn't mind that!". Both guards said nothing. Outside of the cell, a dimly lit hallway lead to an open door. Rain, the wiry readhead, Janet, the tall beauty, and a bald woman in a jumpsuit, probably Madison, were already lined up and when she joined them, they walked.

While all of them were prisoners, somehow no one put restraints on them. No cuffs, no nothing. Were they this confident in their abilities? Wasn't that a thing in the French Sicily? Valentina had no answers. They climbed many stairs, moved along hallways and through a large double door into a court room of sorts. Above them all, a bright, huge chandelier hung. An elevated platform with a table stood at the far end. Seated behind it was an old, bearded geezer in black robes. Even more elevated, behind the geezer, a statue of a muscular woman in a battle garb stood. Her demeanour was superior, calm and gentle at the same time. A sword hung from her garb, a rolled up scroll held by one hand and an open book in the other. Did they have a different version of Justicia? Valentina didn't know. They were ushered onto a single, wide bench in front of the geezer, who barely noticed them.

"Right right. More spies", the geezer mumbled and looked up, letting his gaze sweep across the four. All guards stood attention slightly behind them. She could feel their eyes on her back. Since she'd never been to a court room before, she had no idea how it felt for justice to be passed onto someone. All hair at the back of her neck stood up and a weird tingling sensation crept over her arms. "I'll be swift about it. By the laws instilled upon the citizens of French Sicily and the power granted to me by the Empress, you will serve your military service in a government owned mine. Are there any questions?", the man told them, bored and already moving on to the next stack of paper. "Well yes! I am not a citizen of French Sicily, nor am I a spy. Why do I need to do military service? How is this justice?", Valentina exclaimed, almost jumping from the bench, ready to rush at the old man.

The geezer looked up, an emotionless expression on his face, "We cannot risk potential spies to roam our lands. We are at war. It matters not where you come from, you are now here and therefore our laws take precedence". With a wave of his hand, the guards approached. The Uppersider was about to respond when Janet put her hand onto her shoulder and shook her head. The woman's blue eyes glittered with defiance. She nodded and calmed herself. Both hands clenched into fists, they walked back out into a hallway. One guard lead the way followed by Valentina and Madison, then another guard walking before Rain and Janet. Three more brought up the rear.

Anywhere they had gone inside the ministry had been a maze. Valentina's sense of directions were not the best, but this place was insane. Their way followed a different route, taking multiple twists and turns. Since their path to the court room had taken them up many flights of stairs, they descended them again in a different stairwell. When someone approached the guard in front of her, she realised how few officials had actually passed by them. If her memory didn't betray her, not a single one. Everybody they had seen scurried away in a different direction.

"Make way", the guard commanded, but the person, a rather muscular man with a smirk on his lips didn't even dream of stepping aside. The Uppersider could smell it and turned around to see Madison do the same. A surprised look flashed across the other guard's face when Madison punched him directly into his nose and followed with a left hook that hit his jaw. The timing was perfect. All three guards behind Rain and Janet were still around the corner on the previous flight of stairs and could only hear something, but not see what was happening. The guard in front of Valentina suddenly startled her and she squeaked in surprise as he fell against her legs. Whoever the man was, he had taken out the other guard. Two guards squeezed around the corner, weapons at the ready, aiming at any hostile with trained precision. They took in the scene before them. Her eyes widened when Valentina found herself in the middle of two unconscious guards. They would shoot her, they were convicted to forced labour. A grunt and a thump came from upstairs. One guard spun around, just to get hit in his face. Rain's scarred arm wrapped around the last remaining guard while Madison kicked the gun aside. Then it was done. Not a single shot fired, the advantage of surprise won the day. Except… how the hell would they escape this place? They were in a ministry for goodness sake! Guards and officials everywhere.

Fortunately she didn't have to find a solution to this. Their saviour, the man who started this, pulled three robes from his backpack that resembled his own. Madison, Janet and Rain became officials in a jiffy and didn't look as out of place as before. They also took the guns and hid them under their garments. "Who's she?", the man mumbled in a dark, rusty voice while handing them a stack of documents and books from his backpack before closing and shouldering it again. Janet was the one to explain, "Another alleged spy, can't leave her here, name's Valentina". "Walk next to me, look like I'm leading you around, Rain, you take the rear. Janet, Mad, lead the way. It's just straight, then down, first right and we're golden", the man said and everybody followed. Was he the leader of the group? Valentina wanted to asked, but when they already started walking, she bit her lip and stayed silent.

Janet followed the instructions to the letter, Madison walked next to the beautiful woman and kept mumbling to herself in a low tone. They turned their first right and slowly opened the door, then slipped inside. Everyone followed, carefully and quietly. From the cold, barely lit hallways they stood on the balcony of a large hall. Lights flickered everywhere. By now she had gotten used to the different type of lamps used here, never producing a stable, bright light but behaving similar to a candle. As if the electricity powering them couldn't keep the same current.

Both Madison and Janet had a pained expression on their faces as they sat behind the intricate railing, hiding from whomever was below. Rain grimaced in unison with the other man. "Reel, you fucked up. You realise who's down there?", Janet whispered barely loud enough for them to hear. Reel flinched when a regal voice echoed through the hall. Peering through the small gaps of the railing, Valentina saw a throne-like chair with a person seated on top. Along the wall sat at least a dozen fancily dressed men and women and a long, grey carpet lead opposite to the throne into the room, ending about halfway. Multiple guards stood along the sides, each equipped with guns, spears, swords and other weaponry. While her saviours were discussing options in a quiet whisper, her mind still tried to process how fucked they were, a howling noise filled the room. All guards turned serious and gripped their weapons tighter, the Empress barely reacted and all her fancy counsellors stood up, worry plastered over their faces. Someone had triggered the alarm.