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The Potentate
Chapter 37: Ep. 7 - Salut, II

Chapter 37: Ep. 7 - Salut, II

Juro groaned as Victor’s hand tightened around his throat, hoisting him into the air.

“Who are you?” He questioned, a large cut on his eyebrow causing blood to drip down, veering toward the side of his cheek instead of his eye.

Juro tapped Victor’s hand, arm trembling as he gasped for air, to signal for Victor to loosen his grip. Instead, it only tightened as Juro let out a surprised gasp.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll ask again. Who are you?” His voice was hard and commanding, making it sound more like a declaration than a question.

“Juro,” he gritted his teeth. He was clawing at the hand around his throat, trying to slip his fingers between in hopes of making more room, but Victor’s strength was overwhelming.

Eyes seeming to observe Juro with a cruel curiosity, Victor's head cocking to the side. “And how does someone like you, Juro, know Josephine?”

Freezing, Juro frantically looked outside for any glimpse of Morrigan or Elizabeth. Could they have sold Juro out? How? They only found out about Josephine after Juro retrieved all of the supplies and weaponry.

Following his gaze, Victor let Juro’s feet meet the ground as he was dragged out of the house and lifted into the air again by his collar. “Here’s the outdoor scenery you wanted. How do you know Josephine?”

Mind racing, he responded, “Because I was looking for you. I can help you.”

Victor cocked his head again. “Really?”

“Yes. I can explain everything to you, Victor. Josephine, the machine, everything. Let me go.”

“You talk like you know me so well.”

“I do.”

“Then,” Victor said nonchalantly, hoisting Juro over the cliff’s edge, “am I going to let go?”

Juro squeezed his eyes shut, terrified at the far drop below him, but he quickly reopened them and a large smile lit up his face. “Just let go already, asshole.”

That same mix of curiosity and entertainment was present in Victor’s small smirk. “You really do know me.”

Before he could let go, Elizabeth walked up, paralysis gun in hand, and smacked the back of Victor’s head with it. “Got you,” she hissed, grabbing Juro’s hand after he screamed, falling down. She easily lifted him up and looked at Morrigan with both challenging and expecting eyes.

“I told you, I can do it by myself,” Elizabeth declared to Morrigan before turning toward Juro. Lifting the gun, she went to strike Juro as he barely let out a scream, bringing up his arms, but she easily slipped through his hands. Juro’s vision turning black, eyelids heavy, he saw Morrigan’s blurry face peek over the edge of his peripheral vision.

Juro awoke, blinking fervently as he tried to make out his surroundings. Fuzzy gray stars twinkled in his vision before slowly drifting away, and he could see Victor in a chair with Morrigan standing above him.

Juro tried to move forward, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't seem to break free. Looking down, he saw a thick rope that bound his hands and feet to the chair. He choked as his saliva got stuck in his mouth, the gag making it hard to breath, and he skidded the chair forward.

“Morrigan?” It was muffled, barely audible and obstructed by the gag.

Morrigan paid no attention to him, still talking to Victor. “Did you find Josephine at the dance?” Her tone was mocking, as if she knew more than he ever could.

He burst up from the chair, glaring at her through his thick eyebrows. Juro said something too muffled to hear but clearly worried for Morrigan, yet Victor never did anything else.

“Where is she?” His voice was low, threatening.

“I guess she wasn’t at the ball. Maybe she’s at home, recovering from the explosion that you caused.”

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He flinched for a moment, barely perceptible. “I didn’t cause it. The explosion, it wasn’t me. You know that.”

Even though Morrigan’s eyes were still puffy from crying, her voice carried no ounce of the emotions that wrecked through her not long ago. “I know. And, I know who caused it.”

“What?” He took a step closer toward her, this one not marked by violence but a raw desperation.

Morrigan raised a hand to keep their distance, clicking her tongue. “General Kristiansen was the biggest sponsor of your project. Give me his information.”

“And how am I supposed to trust you? You already lied to me.”

“Did I?” She swirled the paralysis gun around her fingers, playing with it. “Maybe I did, but…” she pointed the gun at Juro, closing an eye as if she were aiming for his head, “Juro didn’t. Where else could we have gotten this?”

Juro: Don’t use me as a scapegoat, Morr.

Juro’s head was turning with what to do before he reread a message Alyssa had sent him — one right before she died. In the chaos he hadn’t had the time to go through it, but the chat thankfully wasn’t closed.

Alyssa: I figured it out. My desk, top right drawer. Don’t touch the journal, just the folder.

Alyssa: Thank you. Take care of everyone.

Chills traveled down Juro’s spine. How many more promises would he have to keep for the ghosts that seemed to grow all around him?

Morrigan ignored Juro’s message and continued with Victor. “Give me his information, Victor. Then, do whatever you want with it.”

“No.” Victor’s voice was certain, rigid. “Why should I listen to what you have to say? He took one step closer, then another, until he was right in front of Morrigan’s now burning flame, but she never moved. “You can’t do anything to me. You need me.”

Morrigan met his gaze with her cold, gray eyes. Had none of this ever happened, she would have received a new crane from Juro. “You’re wrong. I only need one of you.”

Juro struggled, banging the chair legs on the ground as he tried to use his tongue to maneuver the gag out of his mouth. The tension in the room was unbearable, suffocating.

Juro: Why am I tied up?

Victor reached for the hilt of his sword, and in a split moment flames burst from Morrigan’s hand, and Elizabeth grabbed Victor’s neck, trying to slam him onto the ground. He quickly got out and spun around to kick Elizabeth, but she grabbed his leg and threw it back to the ground. They were back to staring at one another — checkmate.

Rocking back and forth in the chair, Juro tipped it over and he went crashing toward the ground, yelping in pain. The gag was slipping off now, finally sliding onto his bottom lip.

“I’ll go with you,” Victor solemnly said, suddenly breaking the silence. “I expect you to help me find my sister, and I’ll help you with the General.”

Morrigan’s smug smile returned, her eyes glazed over. “Good boy.”

VIctor glared at her. “Both of you, get out now. You compromised my home. I’ll pack and meet you outside. THe only exit is in the front.” He quickly gestured his head toward Juro. “And, get that blond girl out of here.”

Blond… girl? Juro’s face flushed red in anger as he scraped his face against the ground, trying to remove the gag.

Morrigan looked puzzled as she pointed toward Juro. “He’s not a girl. His name is Juro.” He could hear Elizabeth snickering in the background.

Victor bent down, getting a closer look at Juro, before standing back up and tying his hair up into a short ponytail. “Doesn’t look like it. I don’t like blonds, either. Both of you get out.”

Juro finally got the gag out of his mouth, and after coughing a few times, shouted out for Morrigan. “Morr, why are you doing this,” he cried, not understanding the sudden switch after everything that happened. “Please, Morr, is this all I mean to you? We’ve been friends since childhood!”

“Keep yourself safe, Juro.” Morrigan headed out, not bothering to turn around as Juro pleaded with her.

Victor quickly packed, Juro redirecting all his attention to him. “Victor, please, at least untie me. I’ll get caught if I stay here.”

Victor didn’t bother responding, desperation leaking into Juro’s voice. “Please! That girl is just as important to me as Josephine is to you.”

“You don’t know anything about Josephine.”

“I know you’ve lived in her shadow, right? You never received as much cover or attention

as her. Your project — it was to beat her. Why else would you have tried so hard?”

Victor remained silent, not bothering to respond but his eyes were clouded with indiscernible emotions.

“Please! I know you understand me. I grew up with her, and there’s so much I need to ask her.”

Walking up to a desperate, animalistic Juro, Victor kneeled down and untied only one of his hands. “This is all the sympathy you’ll get from me. You are nothing like me. If I see you again, I won’t be afraid to kill you.”

Victor got up, wiping his pants of dirt, and slammed the door on the way out, leaving Juro alone as he untied the wiry rope.