Nemesis

VII - Budding Partnerships

Nemesis

Chapter VII — Budding Partnerships

[YVA — Pink Lemonade]

[24 October 2023]
[Midtown, Manhattan]
[10:34]

"What do you mean you can't let production continue?! We're in the middle of a fucking war!" Dain's voice echoed throughout the conference room of the Defense Department's office. Within the room, he was the only man on his feet, clearly frustrated with the board's refusal to grant his somewhat simple request. "Lower your tone and watch your language, Mister Brock. We can't let production continue until we can find a new Weaponry Supervision Officer to replace Mister Burke." One of the board members said, the statement having been likely repeated. However, Dain still refused to listen.

In Dain's eyes, it was far too much of a nonsensical reason to halt production, especially in the midst of war. "So you guys prefer to have our men run out of weapons out there and get massacred?" Dain asked, a bit calmer as he gazed into the eyes of each individual as he moved. He could see something in them all, something similar, but he still could not pinpoint it.

"You know that isn't protocol, we can't just ignore the absence of a supervisor and let you guys keep working." Another one of the board members spoke, frustrating Dain even further. He clutched his hair, nearly tearing it off of his scalp. "There are niggas dying out there! You think anybody gives half a fuck about the protocol?! Just let me make the damn weapons, or better yet, make me the WSO!" Dain demanded, but it seemed that none of these men and women were still willing to give in to that request. "If you don't let production continue our people will get fucked over out there and Russia will roll up here to take all of us out. Is that what you want?" Dain added, but one of the women shook her head, and every other member soon chimed in, shattering Dain's hopes once again.

He shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes as he wondered how or why these people would allow their own country to get put at risk for whatever they had been promised. Dain could tell when he looked at them, that there was something they were hiding. Perhaps there was a bribe they had received, but if that truly was the case, then from who?

Dain left the office, making his way out of the building to unleash his frustration in the open. "GODDAMMIT!" He screamed at the sky. Dain was sick of it all. Sick of the tension with Miranda, sick of the incompetence these people in suits had, and sick of this storm of emotions that constantly remained active within him since Ashton died.

"Well well well, the charismatic Dain Brock really has been shattered to nothing but a man who thinks with his emotions." Dain raised an eyebrow at the voice that had penetrated his ears, clearly foreign to him. However, there was one thing that he could recognize in the voice and that was just the slightest hint of a Russian accent. Dain turned to where he had heard the voice to catch sight of a woman he did not know.

There was one thing he had also noted in conjunction with the bit of a Russian accent. The woman had a dark brown hair and blue eyes, along with a variety of scars all across the exposed parts of her skin. He could easily connect the dots at that. "You're one of the Russian spies that were caught in the refugee plane before it crashed eight years ago..."

"Bingo! It looks like your mind is still sharp. Then again, I don't think it was that hard because I helped you." The woman said, her voice altering a bit to get rid of her Russian accent. Dain walked over to her, touching her shoulder as if trying to confirm that she was real and that he was not losing his mind.

"You're supposed to be dead! Nobody could've survived that crash, your partner barely has any common sense now!" Dain exclaimed, but the lady laughed at his somewhat over-the-top attitude — something quite unusual for Dain. "You'd be surprised by who survived, Dain. My name's Tatiana, and it looks like you're in a little bit of trouble." Tatiana said. Dain raised his eyebrow, confusion creeping in. "And you're supposed to help?" He asked. His tone showed just how little he trusted the woman.