Conflict is the epitome of living, and their conflict was the highlight of his day.

“I don’t mean to bother you, but we need more money.” The woman’s voice was measured, despite her obvious panic.

“I’m on it. Don’t worry,” came a soothing and determined response.

New entry.

Zara Deltoro aka Delta. The daughter of Latin Deltoro, leader of the Takers. Far more imposing on paper.

The backbone of a decentralized movement pitted against the Inferno Syndicate. A target. The strange thing about her involvement was the money source. He’d get to that later.

The woman on the other end sighed in relief. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

“Anything to progress us. Keep it up.”

The call ended.

A large amount of this money was being used to pay Whisperers to spread the good word around the depths. Using this method, they had grown significantly. He would have loved to see where this could have gone; however, a certain cousin of his wasn’t happy.

They had exercised caution, meeting in secret and paying the right people. All of that hard work only to end up dead. It was too much!

Alexander pushed his legs against the desk, threatening to fall with his chair. He pressed a button on a rectangular device known as a cele, a bright light emitted from the gem at the top. With one final push, the environment around him changed.

Upon his arrival in an overcompensating room, a silent ripple washed over the house. With detached fascination, Alexander watched reality and his own creation shift. A young woman’s wings worked overtime while she packed. She mumbled to herself and waved her finger in the air, slightly furrowing her brow.

“Where is the elusive Delta going this time? Do you mind if I tag along?” His inquisitive tone was met with an extreme reaction.

Delta hit her head on the ceiling and her eyes were wider than the sky. “Daddy, there’s a man in my room!” She cried out, bringing a smile to his face.

Each item she threw at him rebounded or shattered upon impact. A crystal barrier protected him from the woman's onslaught. Tearing a drawer out of her dresser, she produced a knife and wielded it with a defiant expression. “I don’t know who you are, but get out!”

That’s cute. “You must have known this day would come, given your dabbling in sensitive matters.” He rested his head in his hand and gazed at the knife. “That knife is dull, dear.”

“Shut up!” She found no success opening the window she hovered over.

“I’m supposed to kill you, but I’m a fan of your work. If you’ll hear me out, I can help you avoid the Inferno and live.”

A shriek filled the room, and she began to beat on the window. “No. Let me out of here!”

He continued on, speaking over her pleading. “Even if I let you go, they’ll send someone else in my place. Your life was already over as soon as you came across our radar, and it’s time for you to accept that.” He inched closer to her, a hand in his pocket. “I don’t suggest running; you’d be putting your family at risk.”

He watched her slump in a corner and bury her face in her knees.

“Hey, it isn’t all over. Don’t you want to hear my idea?” He beamed down at her and she shook her head. “Of course, you do. I can give you a new identity, and we can work together to achieve your goal. How’s that sound?” An optimistic lilt evident in his tone.

She didn’t respond, and remained in her stupor.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Alexander swiped a finger across her forehead, leaving a trail of crystal in its wake. Seconds were all it took for them to grow and envelop her piece by piece, rebuilding in a different location.

The knife, once a mundane item, now gleamed, taking the spotlight. From the vanity, a flurry of items were scattered on the ground, each placed to his liking. A dresser hung half open; its contents spilled out and were left hanging.

He raised his red-tinted sunglasses after moments of gathering his concentration and slowly looked over the room. The surroundings reshaped to his desire. Details emerged from the darkness, each a manifestation. A grin played on his lips at its completion.

One.

Two

Three.

Right on cue, two were running toward Delta's room and bursting through the door. Her mother's horrified gasp, cut through the air. The woman rushed over to her daughter's body, hands trembling as she reached out to cradle her lifeless form. Latin, his face a mask of panic, bolted from the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway to summon help.

Tragedy at its finest.

"Zara! No, my baby!” Her mother's voice cracked, gripping her fading body. Her fingers closed around the air. All that remained was a pile of bloody clothing.

A low growl behind him caught his attention and he found himself face-to-face with burgundy eyes. These belonged to Alvoth, the creature's dark fur blending with the shadows. Transparent and colored crystal adorned the sides of his body, shimmering in the dim light. His tail wagged around, an eyeball on the end frantically looking around. His presence brought the smell of blood.

“Finished already? Record them.”

Alexander snatched a crystal from the creature’s skin, and another took its place as he teleported home. The scene was fresh in his mind. He gazed at the object and repeated the process from before. Slowly, the fragment changed into a purple color, and he tossed it with a victorious smile.

After retrieving a case from under the desk, his collection was complete. He placed his eyewear back on and glanced at the door.

Now to attend to more interesting matters. After leaving his office, he leaned against the wall at the entrance of his living room. The light and calming colors contrasted with Delta’s fidgety behavior. She stood there, rubbing her arms and peering into every corner of the house.

“How are you?”

Delta jumped at his voice. “As fine as I’ll ever be. You mentioned giving me a new identity and helping me?” She backed away while he stepped close until they were inches apart. “How do I know I can trust you? You work for the Inferno, don’t you?”

Alexander reached out to touch her hair, and Delta smacked his hand away. “We’ll need to get rid of it unless you want people to know who you are.” She watched him drag a lone chair from a corner and point to it. He whipped out a summoned knife, causing her to jump back.

“It's for your hair,” he explained.

“You don't have scissors or something appropriate to cut hair with?” She looked at him in disbelief.

"You're right. It would look better on your neck." He slowly slid the knife in front of his own, a cheeky grin on display.

Her reaction was anticipated, but priceless. Her expression changed until she rested on a blank one. She seated herself on the edge of the chair.

Alexander pulled her further back into the chair and massaged her shoulder.

“Try to make it even and don't give me split ends.”

"Well, I haven't cut hair before,” his tone cheerful, “so this will be a new experience for the both of us. Don't move.” He measured her hair in one hand. “Who do you admire or envy?”

"Aria Barzan. She's confident, sassy, and has a motherly vibe to her. Is there a reason you're asking?” If only that were true about his dear sister.

“All in which you lack,” he sighed and chopped off a good portion of her purple hair, “You need to change your appearance and mannerisms for this to work.”

“I only wanted to change the depths. Not all of this.” She attempted to hang her head down and was met with resistance.

“I suggest you adapt and try to think of qualities you want to have for your new identity. Your future.

Delta remained silent and played with her hands. Alexander continued his work, suppressing a snicker when he cut a piece too short. Several minutes of cutting later, and he was done.

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He pointed in the direction of the bathroom and cleaned up the hair on the floor. The woman stomped back out and pointed to her head with a sour expression, “Look what you did to me.”

“We can go bald.”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she bellowed.

“We should go.”

“Where?”

The afternoon was young, and a pure white sky signaled its beginning. Clusters of mist, hardly visible, loomed overhead. The duo traveled through the unassuming neighborhood toward the lively city of Zedek. They entered the business district where streets were full, threatening to burst yet never falling to the pressure.

“Oh, shopping! Why are we here, though?” A distinct change in attitude. Delta looked up at Alexander once they entered a high-end clothing store.

“Dress the way your persona would. You had enough time to think about it.”

The woman raced off, possessing shimmering eyes and a bounce in her step. Alexander watched her zoom between racks and the dressing room, seeing his sister in her. While she occupied herself with the assignment, he began his own.

He held his hand open and a brazen journal materialized in his hand. The brown cover was durable, smooth, and cold to the touch. A new addition to a company of elders who had long-lost their strength. Although it was bland, he could forgive this as what was inside mattered most.

Zara Deltoro.

The following moments were spent creating an analysis of the woman. A smile remained on his face while he wrote and drew on the firm, silvery paper. Naturally, his attention shifted to other people around him. They were all skittering across the floor, taking and putting things back to improve their image. Most of them knew they could hardly afford anything yet they spent their money recklessly. All because of the reputation system that amounted to tasteless copies.

How boring.

Delta tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t turn around,” There was a short pause, “Okay now.” She wore a black and white high low coat, clutching a purse in her hand and holding onto a hat. “How do I look?” She quirked an eyebrow, paired with her serious look.

“Mature. This is the vibe you’re going for?”

“Yes.” She responded curtly. “My persona, which I named Isadore, is a proper woman with an eye for vintage,” she purred. Alexander felt a subtle shift in her aura; a new one made itself known. An irritating presence operating beneath her. A problem he would preserve.

“It’s unique. I hardly see anyone dress like this.”

“Was that a compliment or..” she continued on, not receiving an answer. “ By the way, I have to inquire about your name.”

“Revon.”

“Charmed.” She held her hand out to him and gasped when he didn’t take it. “Rude.”

“There’s one more stop we need to make.”

“Which would be?” Her expression went from curiosity to offense when they entered a hair shop. “You can’t be serious.”

“Here’s a tip. If you’re going for an upper-class woman persona others are going to pick up, you’re faking.” He tossed orange hair at her, and she threw it on the ground. “They act in a way you might not be able to imitate.”

“Who’s trying to imitate? I am who I am and that is who I will be. All I have to do is add depth.”

“Add this.” He tossed a short-haired wig at her and she huffed.

“You have to help me, or I won’t try anything on.”

“What do you need help with? Just put it on your head.’

“I need an opinion, genius. You are the public and I’m Isadore. Get it?” Isadore jutted her lip out and blinked rapidly. Alexander found himself standing behind her as she looked in the mirror and adjusted the wig on her head. “Why can’t they see us?” She asked, turning to the side in the mirror.

The others within the building sat at tables and spoke with each other, no one batting an eye in their direction. Employees walked past their table and never spoke a word.

“A little trick I’ve developed. Don’t think about it," he answered dismissively.

“Mysterious. Is that part of your persona?” Amusement shone in her eyes when she didn’t receive an answer. “Anyways, I’ve been thinking about the Inferno and we both know they’re not going to accept our idea.” Her tone changed, and so did the hair on her head.

“That’s true.”

“In that case, we’d need to remove them, correct?”

“Yes.”

Isadore turned her torso, smoothing the skirt. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know about them, and we can use that to bring them down? It’d be effective.” The faint and irritating aura made itself known, encompassing the lady, and she was none the wiser. Geez…

“I only work for them, so you can imagine getting information would be difficult.” The lie rolled off his tongue in a matter of seconds. “Besides, that method is boring and practical.” Isadore raised a brow. “They need to suffer before they fall.”

“You don’t give me the impression of a lackey.” Skepticism laced her voice and her eyes narrowed at him.

“I am who I am, Isa. I find it strange that you were on the verge of crying moments ago and here you are conversing with me as if we’ve known each other. Anything you want to tell me?”

Isadore rolled her eyes at his crooked smile. “I’ve adapted as you told me to, Mr. Revon. I can’t dwindle in the past. Hand me another wig.”

Alexander lethargically snatched a wig, causing its stand to fall, and leaned in to whisper, “You’ve adapted? You’re telling me you’ve forgotten all about your old life? Zara Deltoro will never exist again. You’re a memory. How do you feel about that?” His lilt was measured with enough sharpness to get his point across.

Isadore inhaled deeply and shook her head. “Would you hand me my wig and stop your incessant rambling? I don’t understand why you’re like this..”

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” A teasing smile spread across his face.

Isadore removed herself from the seat and placed a wig on her head that was on a stand. “Ah, I’ve found it.” Isadore smiled, and she walked up to him with the most generic wig he had ever seen in his life. “What do you think, or should I say, what would the public think?”

“You’re an odd woman with an odd taste in clothing, despite your mediocre looks.”

“And, you’re a callous man who’s trying too hard to be all mysterious,” she retorted.

“Look at us. We’ve already figured each other out. Shall we?” He extended his arm out for her to hold, and they walked out together.

They arrived back in his abode and he bid her to sit down while he went to take care of something. The final step in her physical transformation had begun. Alexander placed his sunglasses on his desk and grabbed a blank fragment from a drawer. He formed a connection with the floating gem, which glowed brighter. Illusions were fed into it's core. The smaller bits, such as parameters, were tedious, albeit necessary.

“Here.” He tossed the gem and she examined it. “This will change your appearance, but it’s only an illusion. Don’t lose it.”

“Aren’t you prepared?” She wriggled her brows and laughed, holding the gem up. “I believe it’s time for me to take my leave.”

“Why would I allow that to happen?”

Isadore rose to her feet and leaned forward. “I know you aren’t planning to keep me here, and I’ll get far more experience in the outside world, hm? We only need to stay in contact.”

“Where do you plan to go?”

“That would depend on your plan.”

“If we’re going to have a fighting chance, then we’ll need allies.”

“Okay, then I will handle that. Well?” She placed her hands behind her back and gave him an expectant look. Alexander flicked her on the forehead, crystal deposited on her face. The house was empty of any trace of her. He teleported to the same location and observed the woman.

They were in front of her old house, with people buzzing inside and out. Isadore gracefully averted her gaze, catching the cele he sent in the air. A sly smile was present on her lips, and she walked away with no hesitation.

A disappointing yet satisfying reaction.

“Alvoth.” The creature rubbed against his arm. “Fill Ramiro in on everything and tell him to follow her."

Was this a good idea? It was too late to ponder the thought. The plan had already been set in motion. Conflict will ensue.