CHAPTER 3: A PARTICULARLY PERILOUS MEETING

– POV: IZAIAH –

(ROLEPLAYERS: VEN, TEA, AWISHA)

(ADAPTATION: TEA)

It's not a restful day for anyone in the White House of No Man's Land.

Izaiah paces around the meeting room like an anxious child. Up, down. Up, down. It takes him a lot of restraint to not bite down on his own damn fingernails.

That letter didn't exactly reveal much— and that made him deeply stressed. Something he really, really does not fucking need right now.

He's expecting the worst. He's expecting for the Emperor to walk in and slice their heads off, or some shit. Crack them open just like he did with Petrikov— as much of a violation of the ceasefire that'd be.

That's his only comfort, in taking such a risk.

And at this moment of time, Jeremy is the only one who dares to break the silence—

"I can't believe you fucking invited him. Here." He taps his finger, repeatedly, against the table. How annoying. "Of all places.”

Izaiah whips his head around to stare at him, stopping right in his tracks.

"I didn't invite him. You make it sound like I had a choice—”

"You did,”

"Alright? You wanna play this game, Collins? It was either this," Izaiah rapidly gestures around. "Or setting foot in the Empire. And I can confidently say that you don't want that."

Jeremy falls silent. But Izaiah continues:

"If anyone else has any bright ideas, please do fucking tell me. Cuz I'd love to hear it.”

“Alright, now’s not the time,” Says Naomi. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. “We don’t need to start fighting before he’s even here.” Her nails dig into her sleeves. “It’s not like we can kick him out, so. Let’s just get it over with.”

"Yeah, I don't think any of us really wants to go to Empire territory. That's asking for trouble ... or, well, worse." Says Queue, at the far edge of the table. He grimaces, then casts a glance towards the door. Then another. Their wings fluff up and the feathers bristle—

There are several sets of footsteps, rapidly approaching. That's Izaiah's only warning—

The doors swing open, revealing the Emperor himself with several No Man's Land guards in tow. They all look severely uncomfortable. The Emperor, Chaos, has a crooked grin on his face, all teeth and no real mirth. Slit pupils regard everyone in the room with a distinct sort of disdain.

"I do hope you've been expecting me after I sent word." Every word he speaks is harsh, emphasized, like he's presenting at the podium. Nevermind the fact that it's a small meeting, and that there's no need for that— but Izaiah doubts he cares, anyhow. "Because I've certainly been looking forward to speaking with you all."

Chaos gives the guards a look, and then steps into the room. One of them moves forward as though to accompany before the other pulls them back. Ultimately, both of them fall into the background— lingering outside the doors as they close again.

Striding directly over to the side of the table opposite the President— Izaiah— Chaos slams a hand down on its surface (it shakes from the impact.) At the corner of his eye, Izaiah can see Jeremy and Queue flinch. Jolt. It's a little bit pathetic, he thinks— stuff like that, that's how he gets you.

The Emperor smirks, at him. Like this is all some sort of game. Izaiah has to look up to even meet his eyes.

He doesn't sit.

"You see. I have a very, very important request to make of you and your countrymen, if you'll have me?" He grins wide, again, all teeth— Izaiah knows that they're in no position to deny. How could they? The axe that rests in its holster says as much.

"I... see," The President decides to spare everyone the pleasantries— "Is there a problem?"

"Yes," He says bluntly, fingers drumming on the table, now. He still doesn't sit. "There's a missing . . . let's say, fugitive from our area who happens to be most important, and we have ample reason to believe he was sighted at your border."

Chaos straightens up to his full height, staring Izaiah down, any trace of a grin evaporating like mist in harsh sunlight.

"Your scouts wouldn't have happened to see any suspicious figures, would they? A hybrid, perhaps?" The man— a hybrid himself— presses harshly, fingers stopping their drumming to curl against the table— claws making an awful screeching sound against the wood.

His head tilts to the side, slit pupils narrower than ever as he really looks at Izaiah— like he's trying to see through him.

"Surely you would be willing to surrender that information. It's quite important to our national security, you see, of utmost importance." The serious expression doesn't leave. It's not often that Chaos loses his grin, but he looks deathly cold, now.

The President crosses his arms, silent. For just a moment. Can't afford to be speechless, in a moment like this.

"... There are some rumors," He starts off carefully. "A sighting of two 'suspicious' individuals at the border," He taps a finger against his arm, a small slip of restlessness. "We don't know the validity of this information. As it stands, it's hearsay. Talk amongst the people. You understand."

Izaiah takes a long glance at Queue, and it's a sort of signal— the you are needed, type— before his eyes flick back to the Emperor. Gaze unflinching and hardened, like it often tends to be.

Queue sits up. Almost stands, drawing attention to himself with a clearing of his throat.

"It is hearsay," He says carefully. "But it's well-traveled hearsay, at least. It's gone around town a good few times, what with some veterans swearing they saw familiar faces. None of them could really say exactly who, though. Too far away." A pause.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I personally can't confirm or deny the validity of the rumors, as the President said, it's talk amongst the people. But make of it what you will, I suppose." Queue shrugs, then sinks back into his seat.

The silence from the Emperor is palpable as he leans on the table.

". . . So. It's hearsay, a rumor," He begins dangerously. "But not one that you can deny, if I am hearing you all correctly." Chaos' expression cracks into a grin again, sharp teeth bared. Like some sort of predator.

Izaiah would be deeply familiar.

"Thank you all kindly. I do believe I have my information, and will be taking my leave, then," Chaos says, hand dragging off the table, claws scratching the surface faintly as they go. He turns to start to leave, with a flourish of the cloak.

Izaiah's ready to let this go. He's ready to let this end. So he says nothing— even though it's really tempting, to.

Jeremy, however, doesn't seem to have quite the same idea—

"... Who is it that you are looking for, exactly?"

The clanking of armor grinds to a halt as Chaos does upon hearing that question.

Oh, he's going to kill him.

He's sure the rest of the Cabinet, will, too. What with the way Naomi shoots him a look and Queue's sharp slip of an inhale.

Naomi, brave as she is, with a sigh, adds: “And what is this person capable of? What should we be looking out for?”

The Emperor stands, back turned, to the Cabinet for a long few moments, in complete silence and stillness. Tension is thick in the air.

Several heartbeats pass.

Then, and only then does he twist his head around to look in the direction of Jeremy and Naomi. Pupils thin slits, he imagines.

"My son," Chaos hisses, voice cold. "I'm looking for my son. A capable killer and a hybrid you should truly exercise caution of."

Then, without another word of elaboration— Chaos strides right out of the room, swinging the doors open and passing the NML guards who stood outside. They scramble to follow him as he makes his way down the hallway, the doors slamming shut behind him as no one bothers to ease them closed.

The President stands motionless. Frozen, to some extent.

For a moment, there, he really thought that was it. That they were dead where they stand. That it was over, all of it. The end of the line.

That doesn't happen, though.

. . .

He waits for the footsteps to recede in their entirety, and just when he's sure they do—

"Jeremy." Izaiah shoots him a downright glare. "What the fuck.”

"Don't fucking start,” He hisses. "Don't act like that's not something we should know about."

And for a moment Izaiah just fucking stares at him.

"Do you know—" Jeremy stands up, suddenly. Like he's trying to prove something, to him. Izaiah hears an audible huff of frustration. "You know— You know who he's talking about! You fucking know! You all do!”

Izaiah can see Naomi's face buried in her hands. There's a crack in her fingers, though, as she glances between both men. Her eyes land on something specific—

“The voidfolk hybrid.”

She's looking at Jeremy's scar, isn't she.

"... Yeah. That guy." Queue grits his teeth, grimacing visibly. Slumped in his seat.

“Fuck.” Naomi laments. “What are we supposed to do?”

No one seems to have an answer, to that.

"... I'm with Naomi. What do we do? Surely we can't just do— nothing about this." Queue breathes in. "If— if it's not on our territory, it's out of our jurisdiction, obviously, and, the ceasefire needs to be preserved. But— surely— surely—" Surely what? They seem to be grasping at straws, here.

The President visibly deflates, any remaining traces of anger slipping off his face. He tries to muster up some sort of answer— but he finds that he can't.

"I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

"Oh, what— and you do? Jesus, Jeremy, You can't just—! ..." Izaiah cuts himself off. It's an ungraceful maneuver— frustrated. Because he quickly realizes that this isn't what they need, right now.

The President turns to the rest of the Cabinet, fully.

"If it's out of our territory, it's out of our jurisdiction, yes." He begins. "But—”

"The borders," Jeremy says. "He was seen at the borders, wasn't he? We should monitor them. Send a few scouts over, I don't know."

He shrugs, half-heartedly. Jeremy sits back down.

“Monitoring the borders… That’s perfect, actually,” Naomi sits up straight, nodding. Jeremy seems to be surprised, by this. “We’d need some kind of rotation of scouts to keep watch, but, we can arrange that, right?”

It's a good enough solution. It worked, he'll give Collins, that. However, Naomi seems to bring up a catch—

“What happens if they find him?” She looks towards the rest of the Cabinet. She almost looks wary. “We can’t just— hand him over to Chaos?”

"Mierda," Queue mutters. He sighs heavily, putting a hand to his head, and thinks, looks like.

"... Do we have a choice?" Queue mutters, again. Then, speaking with more of a raised voice, looking up. "So much is at stake, Naomi. Our people. Our country. I hate to say, it but— we may have to.”

Izaiah clicks his tongue.

"I know you won't like this, Naomi," He starts off. Izaiah straightens his posture, standing up to his full height. "But Andrews is right. It's the most logical decision, if we give him the—" kid? He's not fucking saying that. "— hybrid. Then, we stay out of trouble, surely." Surely?

He crosses his arms.

"Let us not forget how much of a known war criminal this guy, is. Threat to our national security, blah blah blah, I could go on," Bit rich coming from him— what with everything he did to survive, but. You know.

It's all about perspective, isn't it.

Jeremy taps a finger on the desk, amidst the silence. Quietly, quietly— but very noticeable.

"Alright. So who's organizing, this." Leave it to Collins to be so fucking direct.

“But—” Naomi hesitates. And she seems to hesitate, for a long time, before she slumps back into her chair. “I can’t take care of this one.”

At the corner of his eye, Izaiah can see Jeremy try to comfort her. Leaning in, hand on shoulder and all. How obnoxious, that he's done this, before.

"I can organize the scouts," Queue says, voice sounding empty. "They know me well. It should be easy to convince them, and they'll listen anyway," They say with a sigh. "I'll get on that as soon as possible."

"Perfect," The President says curtly. "Thanks."

And that's all he needs to say. The President breathes in, and— he clasps his hands together. Not very subtle of a cue, but it's never failed him, has it?

"Alright, that's a wrap. You can all go, now." How tactful. "Resume to your schedules as normal.”

Until next time ...