DIVISION 52 - BOOK I

CHAPTER XLVIII

I strode past him and pulled my wet hood back. The interior was unexpected. White bar lights hugged the floor edges giving it a sleek, more expensive essence. Black walls with military grade sound block cladding led us to a singular, clouded glass door at the end of the narrow hall.

They hissed open in proximity and I eyed the dramatics with impatience.

"Delightful business!" I called into the darkened room beyond, uninterested in being made to wait. "It's lacking a face though." I said more darkly.

Proximo came to my side and made to clear his throat more prominently. Seconds ticked by, before a clash of metal and wiring sounded and a curse followed. My foot had tapped all of thirteen times before a scrawny man with a cloud of white hair adorned the temples. 

My eyes did not miss the slight limp on his left leg and favouring of the right arm as they dangled. Wrinkles tore at his eyes and forehead. Being honest, I had expected better. The man looked like hearing and sight were a distant affair. 

"That would depend on what face you seek." He retorted in a strangely crisp voice given his weathered age.

I folded my arms before me and openly let my eyes scan the surroundings. Metal bed chambers, holo tables, wires, cables, metals, littering the very space available–It was not the pitch that would entice me to gamble Makayla on. It was not the place. Not the person. In all of five seconds I had decided that my Second was mistaken.

"What little time I have, seems wasted." I cut my eyes to Proximo. "Find another."

What I did not expect was the slow laugh that left the old man's lips before me. The laugh that seemed to morph and warp before it was lighter in timbre. Feminine in tone. I saw Proximo's attention flick back to the old man that dragged a hand to press the under side of his ear.

Then his face fell away entirely.

Her face appeared before us. Or it was not hers at all. He or she now wore the face of a younger woman, not topping a day into thirty. Waves of hair tumbled down in light brown waves and I sucked in a sharp breath.

It was not often I so openly showed my emotion outside of my keep.

"Wasted time, perhaps. But you judge before you know which face you look upon." A clear female voice answered my stare.

"This is your true face?" I demanded. I took a step towards the smirking woman. "I see the face of those I do business with, so if they get the idea to betray me I get the idea to end them."

"Not a person in this city knows my true face, Scorpion and not the threat of death will sway me." She said far too calmly. "I have none you can take from me, they are but ghosts wearing faces of many. You come to me looking for a face to wear and I can help you. You come to me looking to see my face, and I cannot help you." She finished with a coy smile. As I took in the person before me I had to find some admiration in it all.

Unidentifiable. Down to the last strand of hair. The only piece of identity that had not changed were a set of pale green eyes. That. Was the only piece of this person I would get in our dealings.

I turned to Proximo. He cast me a raised brow in question.

"Very well." I uttered. Then gave the man or woman before me a slow smile. "Show me what you can do."

The face changed once more into that of the Imperial Emperor himself. I flinched before he drew a dramatic hand into the dark room behind.

"If you will, Leader of the Underworld. Let us see what face you shall wear." The emperor drawled darkly. It was both disturbing and impressive. Exactly the calibre we needed. Proximo had out done himself. If only he didn't look so damn smug about it.