- AH -

A faint blue light enveloped the mountains as the enormous carved gates closed behind the last convoy of military shipments.

Feldmarschall Johann Teiwas surveyed as the soldiers saluted, and a man in a suit walked up to him with a briefcase, clearly shivering in the morning dew. He sighed; ruled by men in flimsy suits who preferred to spend their times clenching suitcases of money, no wonder the world was in such a mess.

“Feldmarschall Teiwas, I’m Mr. Meyer. I represent the Twelve Imperial Gnasci. Here’s your part of the investment in Project Vymana.”

The nervous man handed the heavy briefcase to the Feldmarschall, and the latter opened it, revealing mass of gold.

“It was an unusual request, but as you can see, we were able to provide it,” Meyer said.

Teiwas turned the pennies of gold between his fingers.

“I’m old-fashioned. Don’t give me those meaningless, worthless pieces of paper that you call money. Or worst, imaginary money within your banks.”

The man fidgeted nervously under the Feldmarschall’s intimidating presence.

“Thank you for your collaboration, Feldmarschall Teiwas. Because of this facility and your men’s hard work, our armies are in safer hands than anywhere else.”

Meyer and Teiwas shook hands, then the former hurried to his SUV.

Teiwas watched them leave before feeling safe enough to turn his back on the road.

“And you people really believed Redspear, that old skinny snake of a man?” he thought bitterly.

Climbing into his own Willy, he took, for what he knew would be the last time, the sinuous road leading to the mines. Upon arriving at the cabin, he was relieved to see eight more Willy, as promised. Entering the cabin with his briefcase in his hand, he smiled broadly upon a good twenty soldiers saluting.

“Perfect, you’re all here,” he said proudly.

“Where else would we be, Feldmarschall?” a tall broad woman answered, smirking.

Teiwas put the briefcase down and opened it, revealing the gold pennies.

“This is our way out. Doesn’t matter where we go, gold is a universal trade object.”

“What if it’s tracked?” one of the younger soldiers asked, worried.

“The briefcase might be, but not the gold itself; by its own properties, it will interfere with the signal.”

Teiwas looked around him.

“Where’s the stuff, Donna?”

“All ready here,” the broad woman pointed to four duffel bags under the table. “If I may, whoever makes the video will become the first one targeted...”

“...hence why I’ll be the one doing it,” Teiwas cut.

The soldiers stared at him and each other, then they all moved one step closer to him.

“Sorry, sir, but we decided that we would all show our face. The world will never believe us if we remain in the shadows while only one man exposes the truth,” Donna said.

The Feldmarschall stared at them with pride: they were truly his loyal comrades. Something that old man could never have.

“Fine. But after that, we move out in groups, and we go our way. We must keep on exposing them even if some of us falls.”

“Casualty of war, sir. It doesn’t change our decision. Strength in Unity: that’s what you showed us.”

“Then let’s get this done the old-fashioned way: early in the morning, before the world wakes. These men in suits think they were our superiors... Let’s show them what true war is. Let them try and stop us.”

********** AI ************

Randall walked out of his house, and briefly pausing, he let the morning sun hit his face. This afternoon was his meeting with the investors, and it was one of the rare days that he did not looked forward to. Investors were greedy sharks, and were the worst to manage; luckily he knew how to play his cards, and he felt lucky to also have Abraham helping. This man’s mastery in psychology was a huge asset, and he was feeling more and more happy to have him in his plan, even if for the moment in a minor role.

Still, these kinds of meetings were his least favourite tasks to take care. He breathed in the cool air, and resumed walking toward the parking lot, where he spotted his car, standing out from the other governmental ones by its black and gold-accented, slender yet elegant Evropan look.

Not one second after he sat in the car, closed the door and started the engine, his front passenger door opened and a peculiar man sat down beside him. Randall knew better than to let show that he got startled by the newcomer’s sudden intrusion into his car.

“What do you want, Scott?” he annoyingly asked.

“Is that any way to talk to me?” the stranger smirked; doing so, he cocked his head sideways, and smiled in the most chilling fashion Randall had ever seen on anybody. The terrifying smile was accentuated by the stranger’s peculiar eyes, emerald green when in full sunlight but golden when shaded, and by the messy spiked fire-orange hair. The skinny jeans and leather jacket he wore did nothing to hide his extreme thinness, yet, he was the only man Randall did not dare to turn his back to, despite his own intimidating appearance.

“I’m about to spend the entirety of this afternoon bargaining with money sharks, I don’t have time for your trivialities,” Randall finally said.

“Your superiors wants to know how it’s moving along,” Scott replied, placing himself more comfortably on the passenger seat, facing Randall with one leg on the seat and the other resting lazily on the wooden dashboard. Despite being forty-one years old, he looked and acted much too young to Randall’s comfort.

“It’s moving at the speed it should; and they are your superiors as well, so don’t give me that tone,” Randall answered roughly.

Scott looked at him, smiling.

“Time is not something you can play around with. You know the Prince is only passing through; and he won’t stick around if you’ve got nothing to give him,” Scott looked at the elegant dashboard, running a thin finger along the veins of the wood. “And when that happens, you can kiss goodbye your reward.”

Randall glared at him.

“Don’t threaten me. You know better.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Scott laughed.

“I’m not. Just relaying the message that there isn’t much sand left in the hourglass for your precious plan.”

“Then tell our superiors that time is my specialty, and always have been. And that they know better than to doubt my honour and loyalty. Perhaps they forgot what happened twenty-seven years ago?”

Scott humphed, and looked at his fingernails.

“I do remember. Not bad what you did back then… but there was one tiny minuscule detail that you overlooked...”

Randall’s eyes turned icy.

“Don’t tread down that road with me, Scott. She may have escaped from me, but let’s not forget that she escaped from you. I find that much more unforgivable, don’t you think? I think our superiors did too, hence why you’re under my command.”

Scott glared at him, his smile frozen, his golden eyes locked with Randall’s in a deadly staring duel. Not a word was said for a few moments, until Scott turned his eyes away, and opened the passenger door.

“Our superiors will be glad to hear everything is going according to plan.”

“Do me a favour, Scott, and just enjoy yourself as you always do. Leave politics and strategies to us,” Randall replied harshly.

“Will do!” Scott cheerfully answered, before slamming the door behind him.

Randall sighed in relief. He hated that out-of-control guy; he was only useful at cleaning up the occasional garbage resulting from failed deals, and as an intermediary to their superiors. Nothing seemed to please Scott more than this task, which made him at least worth the occasional jeers. Randall was under no doubts that in return, Scott got assigned to him only to keep an eye on him on behalf of their superiors. Who cared, let them spy, he always thought. His goal was crystal clear, and he would let nothing go awry.

He put on his security belt, and as he did, he felt the subtle painful jab from the scar on his left shoulder, a twenty-seven years old wound. Quickly putting it aside, he started the engine, and drove out toward a rail leading to the aerial highway.

It was nearly fifteen minutes later when a light bleeped on his console. Randall quickly gazed at the pattern of the bleep, and realizing what it meant, slowed down his car. Sure enough, an old-looking car cut in front of him, then signaled right, and drove down, losing altitude. Randall followed, and they parked under a bridge. The other driver got out of her car first, and recognizing her, Randall did the same.

“Jane, what’s the urgency?” he asked, joining the middle-aged woman.

She dug in the breast pocket of her suit, and handed him her cellphone.

“We intercepted this. We are doing our best to block its transmission, but the people behind this are really good. We can only delay it, but it will inevitably find itself in the communication system.”

Randall took the cellphone and squinted in the sun to see the screen. Not a minute later, his eyes turned an icier shade than before, and his fist tightened.

“When was this released?” he asked, his voice betraying his anger.

“4 hours 46 minutes this morning,” Jane answered.

“Old dogs with old tricks,” Randall mumbled. He thrust the cellphone back at the woman. “Keep it delayed from reaching the system for as long as it takes.”

“Yes, sir. Do I contact the cleanup agents?”

“Certainly not. One betrayal is enough; I’m using my own men,” Randall said before turning on his heels and getting back into his car.

He didn’t wait one second before rising his car to the sky again, and resuming his flight to the Capitoline at a faster speed than before.