"A meeting with the guy running the city?" I asked, bewildered.

"Yup," Bert replied, throwing a suit I constructed for him.

It was a modern design made from a silk wool blend. Which meant any stretching, growing, or limb multiplication was a non-starter.

"How did you manage to swing that?" Nev asked.

"I met with his aid at a bar last night, flashed a bag full of Nyra, and explained we'd love to invest in the city's infrastructure. Most politicians all want the same thing, money, power, or some combination of the two."

Gemma had found our residence on the western side of the city. A part of Singoro's revitalization project was excavating deeper into the cliffside inns to create a more hospitable stay for travelers. So instead of sleeping on dank mattresses and listening to vermin scurry around at night, we had air conditioning units and 100-thread count bedsheets. Surprisingly the city was becoming more comfortable than my penthouse suite in Dulcrois, though it could have been that I wasn't allowed to leave that penthouse alone.

"Now get ready," Berthold suggested. "The city is about to get way busier. If we miss this meeting, we may not get another chance."

The busyness Berthold was referring to was a festival the city was throwing in less than a week. The infrastructure changes were impressive, and even the most influential cities in the world would need help competing technologically speaking. So Cliffhome decided to show it off and offer similar services, for a price, of course. They probably saw our meeting as an opportunity to practice their pitch before dignitaries from prominent cities arrived.

"I don't get it," Colter said, peeking his head from around the doorframe. "We're trying to get my sister, right? Why talk to them about in-fur structure?"

"It's a misdirect," Nev answered, as Bert nodded in agreement. "When making a deal, you shouldn't let the other party know what you want. If you let them think that they're winning the deal for what they think you want, you can slip something in that you actually want, and they will think it's a concession."

"Right..." Colter replied, clearly still not understanding.

"We're gonna get your sister back, Colt," I replied. "I promised, didn't I?"

Colter nodded and walked back into the living room.

"Mercy?" Bert said.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Get ready," he repeated as he finished fastening his tie.

I reached over the side of my bed frame, gripping the bundle of fabrics and materials kept in my belongings. Threads of grey crawled up my arm, covering my upper body, cinching together. At the same time, pumice traveled up the threads snapping and reshaping until buttons adorned the front of my shirt, fastening itself. I hopped out of bed and strolled to the front door as new threads of navy followed its controller. Berthold fumbled with his tie length as I strode past. When I reached the front door, my grey shirt had been accentuated with a navy suit jacket and pants. I stood by the door giving Berthold an expectant look.

"So, are we leaving or what?" I asked.

"You know, sometimes I really hate that," Berthold replied, pausing to look down at his stumpy tie. "Can you tie this for me?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Capital Hall was in a state of panic upon our arrival. Despite the rapidly growing infrastructure, the city's population was still meager, which meant that preparing Cliffhome for this festival took all hands on deck. I found it surprising that Signoro would even take the time to speak with us when there was so much to do but money talks.

"Carter!" Berthold shouted out. "So great to see you again. My apologies if we're taking too much of Roberto's precious time."

"Signoro Roberto is excited to speak with you. No apologies necessary," Carter replied.

Blonde hair peaked through large circular glasses and an overused clipboard. Carter was short but presented an air of confidence and no-nonsense energy that couldn't be ignored.

"Follow me," Carter ordered, quickly turning and walking in the opposite direction.

Technically she wasn't running, as both of her feet never left the floor simultaneously, but still, Berthold and I struggled to keep up with her; more than once, I noticed Bert look down as if he was thinking of manifesting another leg just to keep up. Fortunately, he fought that urge, and we didn't lose her despite her speed and the chaos of city officials scrambling to get the city ready for its festival. She stopped in front of a large set of double doors. We didn't have to guess who they belonged to as a golden plate hung to the side etched in with the letters Signoro Roberto.

We paused for a minute, unsure how to progress, before Carter noticed our hesitancy and knocked on the door for us.

"Come in," a voice on the other end replied.

Carter walked first into the office, holding the door for us to follow suit.

"Sir, as you've instructed, I've brought the investors."

"Great job, as always. Carter, you can leave us for now." Signoro replied.

"Berthold Starch," Bert introduced himself. "This is my partner M."

I shot Bert a look but shortly understood his reasoning. With a bounty on my head and a God with the resources of the most powerful city in the world hunting me down, using my real name probably wouldn't go so well.

"Woooweeee, you boys sure do look sharp. I don't see a lot of suits like them around here. Who does your tailoring?" Singoro Roberto asked.

"Oh, our tailor prefers to remain anonymous," I replied.

"But we may be able to get some things custom-made if we need to sweeten the pot, of course," Berthold continued.

"Oh boy, now he's the one I gotta look out for," Roberto joked, gesturing toward Bert. "Not even one minute in, and he's trynna negotiate."

"You gotta use the tools you have, right?" Bert replied.

"Very true. Well, boys, I don't mean to sound too blunt here, but I don't have much free time at the moment. Carter tells me you're interested in investing in our infrastructure. To what end?"

"Well, I would think it would be obvious," Bert replied. "Your city is growing quickly, and we want to be a part of it. Your lights, gondola system, air conditioning? It's a marvel. Investing is a great deal by itself, but if we can buy a piece before the rest of the world gets a chance, well, then that's even sweeter."

"So he's the brains," Roberto joked, gesturing toward Bert. "Then lemme guess, you're the face? No, no, that's not it."

"I'm just here for emotional support," I replied, patting Berthold on the back.

"Somehow, I doubt that he needs much support, no," Signoro paused momentarily, looking me up and down as panic set in inside. "You're the boss, aren't you?"

I relaxed as the fear of being discovered washed out of me.

"You caught me," I replied, sticking my hands up as a sign of defeat. "I like to have Berthold here do the talking, but at the end of the day, the deals are all mine."

"I know that feeling!" Singoro Roberto laughed. "I have Carter do most of that when we're at parties and public events, outside of speeches. Me and you are big-picture kinda guys. We need somebody to hammer out the details."

"Of course," I replied, feeling Cliffhome's leader warming up to me. "There was one more thing I was interested in. I hear the Bastion is a-"

My segue was broken by Carter charging through the door with what looked like a tablet in hand.

"Sir, you need to see this," Carter stated, walking toward his desk.

"Carter, I told you not to disturb me in meetings," Roberto replied. "Whatever this is, I'm sure it can..."

Signoro Roberto trailed off as his eyes locked onto the tablet—a slick piece of metal with a banana etched into the back. This man was from my world if I had any doubts before that. They were now completely removed.

"Thank you, Carter," Roberto commented as he looked around the room tensely. "We should take this meeting elsewhere, boys. We need to talk."

Roberto turned the tablet toward us, showing a video of five adults and a child sitting at a table in a modern-looking food court. One of the adults held up a fork, then disassembled it into tendrils of weaving plastic.