Amadeus's Steakhouse had once been one of the finest establishments in Kaleidoscope City. Situated in a beautiful old two-story building that looked out over the bay, with its white marble walls, tall ceilings, and luxurious decor, the restaurant was accessible only to those with deep pockets, connections, or a very good reason to be there.
Of course, that had all changed in the wake of the Cataclysm. Now, with a third of the city destroyed, the rest of the metropolis in disarray, and most of its population tightening its purse strings, the restaurant was no longer the same.
In the days after the world had been turned on its head, it was now just one of several dozen places that catered to the needs of the city's wealthy elite and criminal underworld alike.
Amadeus's had been forced to adapt in order to stay afloat. Its menu had changed from offering the finest cuts of beef and the most expensive wines to a more modest selection of dishes, including several vegetarian options, and the prices of the drinks were much lower than before. It was still the same elegant place it had been, however, and it had not lost its charm. The food remained excellent, as did the service.
The clientele had changed, though, from a mixture of old money and new money, to an eclectic mix of... eccentric individuals, to put it mildly.
There were still some regulars who had not abandoned it entirely, however, including a young woman who sat at a table on the second floor overlooking the bay.
The young lady wore an elegant black dress that hugged her figure tightly, and a wide-brimmed hat sat on the table in front of her. She looked to be no older than twenty three, and her long, chestnut brown hair fell in soft waves down her back.
She wore no makeup, and her skin was pale and flawless, save for a few light freckles on her nose. Her green eyes twinkled in the soft lighting as she inhaled the fragrant aroma of the meal in front her.
As she raised a spoonful of lobster bisque to her lips, a voice interrupted her.
"Miss Blackwood."
She froze, the spoon almost to her mouth.
Then, she sighed and placed the spoon back in its saucer.
"What is it?" she asked, her tone calm and collected.
"I need to talk to you." The voice came from a tall, slender man in a dark suit standing in front her table. His face was obscured by shadows.
The woman arched an eyebrow.
"I'm having dinner," she said. "Can it wait?"
"No," he answered curtly. "It cannot."
"Then you may as well join me, sir. I'd rather not waste such an excellent meal," the woman replied, gesturing to the seat opposite her. "Do have a seat and help yourself."
The man did not reply immediately, as if weighing his options, then he stepped forward and sat down in the seat she had indicated, sliding into it with an almost silent grace that belied the fact that he weighed more than three hundred pounds.
"I've heard a great many interesting rumors lately," the man said as the waiter came to take his drink order. He ignored the man's attempts to get his attention. "Rumors of your activities in the past weeks."
"Oh?" the woman asked as she sipped at her wine glass, a mischievous smile playing at her lips.
"Yes. Rumors of your... association... with a certain group."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, taking a bite from the steak in front of her and chewing thoughtfully.
The man's face darkened, and his hands clenched around his napkin. He seemed on the verge of losing control, but when the waiter came back to take his order, his composure was perfect once again.
He ordered the most expensive wine on the menu, a rare vintage that had been kept safe through the apocalypse.
"You know exactly what I mean, missy," the man said as soon as the waiter was gone again, his tone low and dangerous. "You've been seen with them. Several times. In fact, you seem to spend a great deal of time in their company."
"I have no idea what you're referring to, Mr. Lysander," the woman said with a smile. "But if I were to associate with anyone, I'm sure you would know about it first thing in the morning, wouldn't you? After all, you do keep a close eye on me, do you not?"
The man's expression turned darker. He leaned back in his seat, glaring at her across the table.
"You are in no position to be playing games, Miss Blackwood. I'm here because you are a threat. You are a threat to the safety of this entire organization. Do you have any idea what would happen if you were to be exposed? The fallout would be immense, not just for yourself, but for the rest of us as well."
"Oh please," the woman laughed, shaking her head. "Don't be so melodramatic, Uncle Lysander. The worst they'd do is put a price on my head. Or maybe the opposition would try to recruit me, if I'm lucky."
"Do you really think that would be the worst of it?" he asked. "Do you truly believe that the worst they'd do to you would be to offer you a job?"
"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't kill me. Not with what they know. If anything, it would probably just get them angry enough to send me to the Moon. Maybe even to Mars."
"Are you insane? Do you even care about your own life at all?!"
She laughed again, taking another bite of steak.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, chewing and swallowing. "Of course I do. That's why I'm being so careful."
"Being careful?" he scoffed. "How exactly is spending all your free time with the most infamous and wanted criminals on the planet 'being careful'?"
"Well, if you're so concerned, why not just take care of them yourself? Wouldn't that solve your problem? The number of individuals on this world that could stop you can be counted on two hands, after all."
He glared at her again.
"You're mocking me," he said. "I'm trying to have a serious discussion with you, and you're making fun of me. We raised you better than that."
"Oh, lighten up, Lysander," she chuckled, reaching for her glass. "I was merely suggesting that perhaps you could handle things more directly, if you were so inclined. Or is it that you lack the courage to get your hands dirty? You seem awfully fond of delegating the hard work to others these days."
"Delilah..." he growled, his fist clenched tightly.
"Relax. You'll get your precious information. I'm not going to let anything happen to myself, or my assets. I know what I'm doing, and you're not going to stop me." She sipped at her glass of red wine and sighed contentedly.
"Is this some kind of a game to you?"
"No, of course not." She shrugged. "I am merely trying to have an honest conversation, and you're making it very difficult for me."
He glowered at her. His face was flushed, his jaw clenched. He looked as if he wanted to hit something very badly. Then, suddenly, he seemed to relax again. His expression turned thoughtful, his anger dissipating almost immediately.
"I see," he murmured. "Very well then, if that is how you want to play things."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, my dear," he replied. "You may continue with your meal, and I will continue mine. We can talk about other things, if you like. Such as how our respective days went. It has been some time since we spoke last, hasn't it? I'm curious as to how your research has progressed, if it's progressed at all."
"Well," the woman smiled, spearing another piece of steak on her fork, "I suppose we could talk about that. But first, let us finish our meals. It would be a shame to let such fine cuisine go to waste."
The man nodded, picking up a knife and fork.
"Agreed. We can talk while we dine."
And so, for the next several minutes, the two sat silently eating, occasionally speaking of trivial matters, their conversation light and airy. Neither seemed particularly interested in digging deeper into their mutual concerns. When the waiter came by to refill their glasses, they thanked him politely and resumed speaking in soft tones.
As the plates were cleared away, and the waiter brought the dessert menu, Lysander turned to look out at the ocean.
"You know," he began, "this place really is lovely. It's a pity that so much has been lost, but it still retains much of its beauty."
"Oh? I never took you for a romantic, Mr. Lysander."
"Romance is overrated, in my opinion," he replied, his eyes on the sea beyond. "Beauty is eternal, and far more valuable."
"You don't think love lasts forever?"
"No," he said flatly. "Love dies every day. That is why we strive to make the most of the time that remains to us, to find as many beautiful things in this world before it is gone for good."
"How poetic," the young lady laughed, taking a sip of wine. "I would have thought you were above such sentimental nonsense. But then again, you've looked after me for all these years for a reason, no?"
"I suppose I am." He chuckled dryly. "Still, it does not change the fact that the view here is stunning."
The two sat in companionable silence, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
"It's strange, isn't it?" she said, after a moment. "The end of the world seems so far away now, and yet, it has been right in front of us for so long. We were always aware of the possibility that everything would end one day. That humanity itself might perish from this earth, along with all other living creatures."
"And yet, it hasn't happened," Lysander remarked. "In spite of her best efforts, mankind continues on, and we have found ways to thrive in the face of extinction. Perhaps it's because of her, or perhaps it's because of those who fought against her. Whatever the case may be, we continue, even in the wake of all this death and destruction."
"Yes, indeed," she replied, her gaze still on the water.
"I wonder what the future will bring?" he mused. "Will we ever reach the stars, and explore the depths of space? Will we live long enough to witness the end of the universe itself? Will there ever come a time when we no longer fear our own annihilation?"
Blackwood smirked.
"It seems ironic, doesn't it? My progenitor is dead, but she haunts me still. Her legacy lingers on. Her madness remains etched into my mind, forevermore. She left me her imprint, and I cannot shake them loose." She took another long drink of her wine.
"I'm sure you can," he reassured her. "Your memories are not your destiny. They do not define who you are, or who you will become. Only you can decide that, and only you can choose to rise above them, or to succumb to them. It's your decision, in the end. You alone can determine whether or not you will allow yourself to be controlled by them."
"Quite the way with words indeed, Mr. Lysander. Such words of wisdom from such an unlikely source." The woman smiled wistfully. "You should write poetry. I'm certain that your talents would be greatly appreciated."
He snorted. "No thank you, I'll stick with writing prose."
"Perhaps you should try both, Mr. Lysander," she suggested. "I'm sure you'd be able to find an audience for each. After all, the written word has always been one of the most powerful forces on this earth, has it not?"
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"It is," he conceded. "But the power of language is limited by the limitations of its author, and the limitations of the reader." He paused for a moment, as if considering. "I suppose I could try my hand at poetry, though I'm afraid it might turn out rather badly."
"You never know unless you try, Mr. Lysander," the woman replied cheerfully, clapping her hands together. "Let's give it a shot! What should we call you? Poet Lysander? No, no. That won't do. Something more... majestic! More grandiose!"
She paused for a moment, deep in thought, before snapping her fingers. "Ah! I have just the name for you! You shall henceforth be known as Xander the Magnificent!"
Lysander raised a single eyebrow.
"I don't believe that would work very well," he replied dryly, shaking his head. "I am known as a monster, after all. A beast of legend. A dragon to be slain by the gods and heroes. A Titan."
She laughed heartily, her laughter ringing out through the restaurant.
"A monster? Oh, please. If anything, I'm the monster. My progenitor was a mad, evil thing. Her mind was warped by greed, ambition, and hatred. She sought to destroy the world simply because she could. She had no compassion, no empathy, and no conscience. She would have killed everyone without a second thought, simply because it amused her."
She leaned forward in her chair, staring intently at the man across from her. Her green eyes glinted with a strange intensity, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't see.
"Her insanity drove her to the brink of madness, until finally, she lost all semblance of reason and became nothing more than a creature of instinct. And even then, her hatred was so great that she could not even bear to die. So she continued on, her body rotting and decaying from the inside out, even as her spirit raged against its confines, desperate for freedom. It was this that kept her alive for so long, despite all the damage done to her. She clung to life because it was all she knew, all she had ever experienced. Her entire existence was one of pain, suffering, and death. And not even death could truly end her."
The young lady paused for a moment, her expression softening. She shook herself slightly and sighed.
"But enough of that. What I mean to say is this: I am no monster. Nor am I a saint, nor a savior. All I am is an ordinary human being. A human being who has been through some very unusual circumstances. I've had my share of hardships, and I've overcome many challenges, and I've done both good and evil. But in the end, I remain an ordinary person, just like everyone else. And especially, just like you. And you are no monster."
She turned her gaze away, staring off into the distance, and he watched her for a few seconds. He wasn't sure what to think, or even what he was supposed to say. He didn't know if she truly believed what she had said or not, but regardless, he couldn't deny that her words were true.
He'd seen her at her worst, after all, and while she may be an ordinary human being, there was no doubt that she was far from being an average one. The young girl had gone through unimaginable horrors, endured terrible traumas, and suffered in ways he could never comprehend.
And yet, she still held herself together, she still managed to find joy in her life. That was something he admired greatly. It was a trait he hoped he could someday possess. If only...
"May I take a seat?"
The young woman glanced up, only to blink in surprise at the presence of a woman in a white suit and white hair. Her face was obscured by a veil, and she was accompanied by a tall man dressed entirely in black, with an accompanying onyx mask.
"I'm afraid that I'm expecting a friend, and the table's rather crowded." She said politely.
"Oh, that is a shame. We have much to talk about. It has been quite some time since we've had a chance to chat."
"Have we met?" She asked curiously. "You look rather familiar, actually..."
"Oh, yes. Yes, we have." The woman replied with a faint smile behind the veil. "You wouldn't remember me, though. I made sure of that."
Blackwood's brow furrowed slightly. She didn't know how to respond to that. What was this person talking about? Who was she?
"What do you want from me?" she finally demanded, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Ah, straight to business. That's fine. Let me explain."
The woman in white sat down with the man in black.
"The matter of Kaleidoscope University," the veiled woman explained.
Blackwood's expression changed immediately.
She looked surprised, then wary, and then suspicious.
"The Vault of the Guardians." She whispered, and the man in black chuckled lightly.
His voice was deep, but smooth and calm, and he seemed relaxed, as though nothing in the world could faze him.
"And what of it?" Blackwood demanded, her voice cold and flat.
"With the fall of Red Masque and the capture of the city, the situation is far, far more dire than anyone could anticipate." The woman in white explained, leaning forward. "A war has begun. And it's not going to end well."
"That is as obvious as can be. You are stating the obvious, I'm afraid. Get straight to the point." Blackwood interjected.
"Oh, I am. But I need to explain a little first, don't you think? The world has changed drastically, hasn't it? And not just the city, either. Everything is different now."
She looked at Blackwood pointedly.
"Things have become far worse. Far, far worse."
"Far worse?" Blackwood echoed.
"Oh, yes. Far, far, far worse."
"What are you getting at?" She demanded.
The veiled woman looked at Lysander again. "I am sure that you know exactly what I'm getting at."
He didn't respond, but his eyes narrowed.
"The vault has a certain item of interest to everyone. The item was left there by a certain someone who is no longer with us. An individual that allegedly perished during the Nightmare of Nox." The masked man in black explained.
Lysander narrowed his eyes, suddenly pounding on the table in front of them.
"You are meddling with powers far beyond your control. What are you thinking?" he snapped.
The veiled woman shrugged.
"I have my own reasons. But that's neither here nor there. We need to acquire that key and secure it."
"And why do you come to us?" Blackwood demanded.
The woman smiled, her hands splayed open.
"For several reasons you might guess at, in fact. You are Red Masque's protege, are you not? And the sole individual Mister Lysander here is loyal to. You have more influence over him than I could possibly ever hope to achieve, as he has looked after you since childhood."
Lysander growled. "Transparent."
"Is it not best to be?" she giggled. "I suppose you could see through that rather easily, couldn't you? Well, whatever. Let's cut to the point, shall we?"
The masked man in black and the woman in white both shared a look as the veiled woman's lips curled upwards.
"There are others who seek the Key of Babylon," She said. "Its secret keepers are compromised and we must retrieve it before any others get it. I have reason to believe the others who are aware of it are compromised. It would not be wise to leave it in their possession, especially given the state of affairs of the university and the world around us."
"I have serious trouble believing that," Blackwood muttered, her fingers tapping her chin in thought.
The woman shrugged.
"Believe as you may. I do not care. What I do care about, however, is achieving what we came for." Her tone became firm and commanding, her dark eyes glimmering behind the veil. "We do not require your direct cooperation yet. I understand trust must be built, but I am a mere messenger today."
"I see." Blackwood frowned. "What are you after? The key itself? Let me guess. You require Lysander here to take care of Tesseract, Emberline, and Strike. Or to get in the vault itself. He would be capable of both, given correct planning."
"No, no. The latter, perhaps at some point, but the former? That is a battle he would not be favored to win. Especially when Tesseract has time to prepare on a home field, although he may take her with him. No. This task is for you. Lysander has a far greater part to play in this."
"I beg your pardon?" Lysander snapped, glaring at her.
"Ah, yes. That. Well..." she turned her attention back to the Blackwood, who raised an eyebrow, her green eyes glimmering in the dim lighting.
"What do you need me for?" She asked cautiously.
"Simple," the woman in white replied, her lips curling upwards in an amused smile. "I want you to find a way into the vault. Not necessarily to be acted upon soon, but merely keep it in reserves for later. We will provide you with everything you need once it's time."
"You expect me to simply do your bidding without question?" She asked incredulously. "And for what gain? How does helping you help us?"
"Because you are the only ones who understand why Red Masque settled and built his empire in the largest hub of Magical Knights in the world," the woman in white answered simply. "Of why he was allowed to continue pushing contraband and drugs, of why he had the support of powerful political forces despite the sheer brutality of his operation. Of the power he once wielded. Of why the Magical Girls of two generations were not able to touch him despite the countless lives lost. Of why he spared their lives, and let them live. And most of all, of how the university was so easily penetrated. After all, that is the very place the Vault is located in. I want your help, and I am willing to offer you the means to do so."
Blackwood's brow furrowed.
"That's impossible." She shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips. "You have no way of knowing any of that. Red Masque never trusted anyone with those details."
"Ah, but we do," she replied. "Because we were there when it was created. We saw the very inception of his plan."
Lysander froze, his expression changing to one of confusion.
"I do not believe you." Blackwood finally said, her voice barely audible. "That is not possible."
The veiled woman smirked behind her veil.
"You... I do not recognize either of you," Lysander growled, rising from the table. "And that makes me very suspicious."
He stood, his form looming over the two of them, and glared at the woman in white. The man in black didn't flinch, but simply looked at him curiously. The veiled woman smiled at him, her gaze never leaving his.
"Oh? Do you think that's what you should focus on?"
"You are playing games," he growled.
"Perhaps." She chuckled, leaning forward. "But that's not really what you're worried about, now, is it?"
"What are you implying?"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." Her gaze flickered between the two of them. "But I suppose you would be curious to know what the future has in store for you, no? Especially given your current situation. I am not trying to deceive you or anything of the sort. Merely informing you of the facts as they are. The world is a very different place now. A very different place. And the sooner you understand this, the better. The world is on the precipice of change. And it's about to tip over into something new. Something far more terrible."
Blackwood stared at her in silence for a few moments.
"Get to the point." Lysander growled.
"All we ask is for you two to prepare for the moment," the woman in white continued, her tone growing more serious. "You will need to prepare yourselves for what's coming. Because the end of the world is not the only threat that faces us." Her gaze hardened. "We need to protect ourselves from the coming storm. And to do that, we must work together."
"We do not have any reason to trust you." Blackwood stated bluntly. "Nor should I even consider working with someone like you. You are not trustworthy. The fact that you would approach me in such a fashion suggests that you have ulterior motives."
"But you will prepare nonetheless." the masked man in black interrupted, speaking at last. "Because you know what is at stake."
Blackwood's brow furrowed, her fingers tapping her chin.
"And if I don't?" She asked. "What if I choose not to cooperate?"
"Then you will regret it," the man in black replied. "You will be forced to face a choice that you will find very difficult to make."
Blackwood frowned, crossing her arms.
"I see," she finally said after several moments. "So, that's how you wish to play it, is it?"
"Only if you fail to see reason."
She stared at him for a few moments, her green eyes gleaming.
"Get out of my sight." Blackwood finally ordered, glaring at them both.
"Testy, testy," the veiled woman mused. "Very well. I shall take my leave."
With a flourish of her cloak, she vanished from the spot, her masked partner alongside her. The two of them disappeared from view, and Blackwood sighed deeply.
"Who are they, Lysander?" She asked. "Why would the likes of them approach us?"
"I have no idea. They were not known to me." He admitted.
"Curious. Far too curious. You were there planning with Ricardo that day, were you not?"
Lysander nodded.
"Yes." He paused for a few seconds, his gaze drifting towards the ocean. "Yes, I was there."
Blackwood sighed, rubbing her temples. "As if things were not already bad enough, we have a mystery to deal with."
She glanced over at Lysander, who had been watching the waves crash upon the shoreline.
"You are sure they are not familiar to you?"
"I'm certain of it."
She shook her head, turning her gaze back towards the sea. "Well, I suppose we shall see. For now, however, I think I'd like to finish my dinner."
Blackwood turned to the shadows behind her. "Come now, then, stop hiding behind there. I need your help with the food."
"Oof. You knew I was here the whole time?" a voice called out.
A figure emerged from the darkness, a short and wiry teenager with a mop of black hair, his brown skin shining with a layer of sweat, his dark eyes gleaming in amusement.
He wore a loose fitting black hoodie, sighing as he folded up a pair of collapsible butterfly knives and shoved them back into his hoodie.
"Not quite. Your presence was concealed perfectly, for all intents and purposes," Blackwood reassured him. "However, I know you well enough to realize that you wouldn't leave me to dine here by my lonesome, given the city's condition. The same went for Mister Lysander."
"Eh, yeah, that makes sense," the teenager admitted.
"Now, are you going to join us?"
The young man looked around, spotting the other patrons in the restaurant.
"Takes me right back, huh?" he remarked, his voice wistful. "I liked things more when you were, you know, a little less of a smug asshole."
"Mm," Blackwood murmured, sipping at her glass of red wine. "Those were simpler times. Now, I fear we have far too many problems to deal with.
"You said it, 'Lilah. So, uh... what's up with those people earlier? The creepy ones?"
"We're not sure." Lysander admitted. "It would be prudent for you to keep an ear out if you're going to go back to roaming. We will need information, and we will need it soon."
The young man smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I'm on it. You should know me well enough by now, ya 'ol hunk of metal."
He winked, before picking up a menu from a nearby table.
"Ah, they have a seafood linguine," he noted, his grin growing wider. "I haven't had one of those since last time I was here with Miss Eve. God, that feels like a lifetime ago, huh? A lot has changed. It's like a new world out there now."
"Indeed," Lysander remarked, glancing over at Blackwood.
She sat, staring out at the sea, her brow furrowed. The young man followed his gaze, his grin fading as he saw her expression.
"Soooo.... What's wrong?" He asked. "Is there something else going on here that I should know before I scamper off again?"
"No. There's nothing else," Blackwood replied. "Just... I have been thinking."
She paused, turning her attention back towards the ocean, and he frowned at her.
"Thinking? About what?"
She smiled, her lips curling up in amusement. "Oh, nothing really. Just about how strange fate is, I suppose. How unpredictable. How mysterious. How capricious and fickle and cruel. And also, about how wonderful it is that we're still alive to enjoy it."
Lysander frowned, his gaze lingering upon her.
Blackwood sighed.
"Well, no use worrying over something we can't control." She said, before beckoning at the newcomer. "Come. Sit, and eat. We must make the best of things, after all. I haven't seen you since you ran off during the Cataclysm and... well, just this once I'll admit that I was quite worried."
"Alrighty, alrighty." the teenager laughed. "Hey, waiter! A plate of the seafood linguine here! And a pitcher of lemonade too. Thanks!"
He hopped up, taking a seat next to her, and Blackwood shook her head, smiling fondly at the boy.
"You are incorrigible, my dear." She murmured, shaking her head.
"Yeah, well. It's all good." He replied with a laugh.
"Indeed." She agreed. "So, you were at the fiasco which led to the presumed death of our leader? What exactly happened down there? It must have been quite an experience to fight against the monsters directly."
"Eh, I was kind of too busy getting my shit wrecked. Made a new friend. Called her Sparkle Princess. Nice gal." he shrugged, grinning. "We're going to be getting a band together, once the dust settles a bit. We're calling ourselves the 'Rainbow Bitches.' I play bass, and she does vocals. We got a drummer and a keyboardist lined up already. We're looking for a second guitarist, though."
Blackwood sighed while the teenager's expression curled into a shit-eating grin.
"But, eh... real talk? My shit was wrecked, and not just in terms of the whole getting beat up by zombies thing. There's a bunch of stuff I've gotta tell you..."
Lysander smiled, watching the two of them, as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.
Blackwood sighed again and dabbed at her cheeks with a napkin, before sitting back and giving the boy her undivided attention.
"So... what exactly happened that day, then?"