A group of five seated figures waits for news at Mon Dieu. The four figures sip quietly their wine to be more precise a 1967 vintage white wine. Mr. Jones impatiently taps his feet against the luxurious floor. “What is taking them so long? We should have heard news by now?” Mr. Jones unhappily growled.

“Calm yourself, Mr. Jones, I am sure news will come soon,” Wistari softly chided.

Mr. Nazari is unable to hide the rueful grin on his face as he comments, “Maybe.” Mr. Jones glares at Mr. Nazari who innocently takes a sip from his wine glass.

Suddenly the well-dressed figure of Grant appears and comes to a halt before them. “I have urgent news to report,” Grant said as Mr. Moore motions for Grant to deliver his message. “I’m afraid to say, but the attack failed. The defenses of Marchen Inc. are vastly overwhelming that our initial estimate of Marchen Inc.’s security defenses was not only gravely wrong, but we vastly underestimated them. Every single one of the men sent to attack has been captured alive and turned over to Emerald Cities’ special police forces,” Grant regretfully declared.

Mr. Jones sputters indignantly turning red and violet with rage. Before Mr. Jones can bellow his rage, Mr. Moore shoots a pointed look at Mr. Jones efficiently shutting him up. Mr. Moore narrows his eyes and says, “Please continue and explain in more detail the current situation.”

“Yes, sir. Thankfully, we arranged for a memory spell to be implanted via the signed contract. As soon as the men were turned over to the police the spell activated and erased their memories of the contract. Naturally, we have taken care to ensure no leads can be traced back to us. But I’m afraid of receiving the initial rudimentary reports from our sources from within Marchen Inc., the defense systems of Marchen Inc. are now estimated to reach at least be at C-class levels or higher. I’m afraid that after tonight, Marchen Inc. will increase their security defenses even more. Based on all of this new information and severe time constraints, it will be rather costly and dangerous to mount another attack in such short amount of time,” Grant cautiously stated.

“Thank you, Grant, for your candor it is much obliged. You are excused,” Mr. Moore firmly said. Grant politely departs and hurries away to finish cleaning up all loose ends.

The air is heavy as Mr. Moore lets out a quiet sigh of resignation and says, “We will not do anything more than we already have done. It’s far too risky to act with more force than we already have.”

Mr. Jones heatedly sputters, “What!” Mr. Jones slams his hands on the table in a fury causing the glasses to tremble for a moment. “Oh, now you’re taking the high road, but Moore, you can’t leave us hanging out to dry. You’re the only one who will be the least affected by this outcome and will still be in a perfectly good position. I refuse to accept that answer! Surely there is something more you can do!” Mr. Jones roared sending spit flying onto the table. Wistari and Tassarion frown at the unsightly display of emotions.

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Mr. Nazari frowns and shakes his head at the idiotic actions of Jones. No one spoke like that to Mr. Moore and lived to see the end of their days. Mr. Nazari lets out a sigh at possibly losing another partner and downs his remaining wine in a single gulp.

Mr. Jones let out an angry huff as Mr. Moore icily says, “Are you finished, Jones?”

Mr. Jones pales as he remembers exactly whom he was shouting at. Mr. Jones hastily stammers, “Sorry about, that Moore. It’s just that the blood sometimes rushes to my head, that’s all.”

“Yes, that is a problem,” Mr. Moore mused out loud.

Mr. Jones trembles and says, “I’ll back off. I will!”

“Of course,” Mr. Moore matter-of-factly replied.

Mr. Jones hurriedly grabs his coat off his seat and says, “I’ll see myself out,” before speedily rushing away.

Mr. Nazari frowns distastefully and covers his ears as a single fatal gunshot is heard. Wincing slightly Mr. Nazari turns to the pale waiter and says, “Another glass, please.” The waiter with trembling hands pours the wine, before taking a step back, all the while pretending to be part of the inanimate furniture.

Mr. Nazari sips from his drink as Wistari sighs as Tassarion flatly says, “Was that truly necessary?” Mr. Nazari snorts at the comment. As if those two would have done anything differently?

Mr. Moore casually says, “It would seem a fearful mishap has happened to our colleague. We should mourn Mr. Jones loss properly.”

Wistari grabs her wine glass to make a toast, “To Mr. Jones, may he rest in peace.” The remaining four members raise their glasses as well and murmur, “To Mr. Jones,” before downing their glasses.

“Then how shall we divide Jones equity?” Tassarion callously commented as soon as the toast was finished.

Mr. Moore wipes his lips with a linen napkin before replying, “By his tragic death, Mr. Jones forfeited his bet and Mr. Nazari is the winner of that bet. The wealth and bet items now belong to Mr. Nazari. As for the auction house items, you, may each take your pick of equal items, while I shall merely retain the license and auction house itself.”

The members nod in approval of the swift decision and each swiftly excuse themselves to make their plans. Mr. Moore quietly remains seated as a middle-aged man in a dark suit emerges from the shadows. “Sir, what shall you have me do?” The left hand of Mr. Moore asked.

“I want you to dig deeper into Miss Reed. There is something that we’re not seeing,” Mr. Moore flatly stated.

“Of course, sir. And how would you like for me to dispose of the body, sir?” The hitman asked.

“Solink, as always I leave that to your discretion,” Mr. Moore commented before departing from the restaurant. Another gunshot is heard as Solink takes care of the server of the evening meal. One couldn’t afford to leave witnesses after all. It was better to clean up early on a small mess than take care of a large mess later.