– S C O R P I O N –
I pulled in a team of my personal guard as we strode down the crimson hallways of the largest arms dealer in the black and clean markets. It was about time we had the necessities for the job we were about to embark on. We had the faces...
Seven of us would wear Imperial troop faces as we infiltrated the Emperor's tower. Not all of them from interrogated guards. We needed to throw suspicions away and carefully replace most of the guards–whose identity we had already under construction with the faceless man or woman–on the day we broke in.
Untraceable and concealable weapons only. No rifles or automatic weapons. I preferred the edge of a blade either way...
Two traditional and rare oak doors were swept inwards to reveal Xafra.
He was a wisp of a man, sharp as a knife. His name clung to that description and directly translated into blade in a forgotten language. His dark suit hugged his thin frame and long fingers. Only a black pyramid of hair graced his chin and his black, cat-like eyes cut through every one of our party before landing on myself.
A wicked smile lit his face.
"Scorpion, good fortune brings you back to my doors I trust." He did not state it like a question, leaving no room for one to judge it disrespectful and prying. He played the game too well for such errors.
I strode forwards without my classic red cloak swaggering with me, without the set of daggers or fusion pistols that commonly sat upon my hips. Instead I walked up to Xafra as another nondescript civilian–except anything but. He noticed this as I walked.
I paused before him and our eyes held wordlessly. He did not flinch before me. Our paths crossed too much for that. As did his with many more monsters from the shadows.
"I'm in the market for something special." I uttered dryly. I flicked a hand and my personal guard melted through the doors beyond him to assess his new material. They all knew what their tastes were.
"Allow me to personally make your search easier. Making a body one with elements and fusion is always an art to me. Especially when I am in the presence of the artist of our time..." He allowed with a quick brow raise.
I let out a snort and extended a hand wordlessly. I had been through the charade many times, but this man fitted me weapons that overthrew Empires. This man and given me the daggers that adorned my throne. He knew when and where it most hurt my adversaries without even seeing them.
Extensions of yourself. He would say. That is what these tools must be–their only purpose.
We strode past as my guard assessed rows of weapon racks. Blades that cut the air at a glance. New developments. Creative killing machines. My eyes caught hold of a pair of daggers that activated once the user pressed the hilts. I watched Proximo extend two blades with a glowing edge of plasma. He grinned at its glow before sheathing them and winking at me when I passed.
"I have awaited your next visit eagerly, Scorpion. You are aware I take personal pride and make it my goal to impress you." He told me as we stepped before another set of rare wooden doors and his heavy set guards drew them back.
Now we were within the room where it truly happened. The room where creation and annihilation occurred. The place where power was shifted and remade. The floor glowed a light blue in a patchwork of hexagon tiles. The walls split between stone pillars and glowing shelves. Shelves of what I was here to see.
"We need stealth." I stated simply, cutting to the point. "We need fast weapons and light armour. All concealable and all silenced. Untraceable, durable and ready to cut through Imperial grade armour at the flick of a wrist. Are we clear?"
"Oh crystal, Scorpion." He gave me another coy smile before adjusting his beard edges.
"Your carbon suit is child's play now. Mere glorified tin in comparison to the newly established poly-onyx bonded armour vests." He said in barely contained excitement. He swiped at his forearm nano sleeve and a cabinet emerged from the hexagon floor tiles.
Oh, was it glorious. Gloriously empty. I wanted to laugh but I had a reputation I was not to be disappointed. I merely cast Xafra the look that said time was being wasted but his expression only morphed into a grin.
"Touch it."
"And what, pray tell, am I to touch other than your book shelf Xafra?" I uttered dryly.
Instead of wasting more seconds he reached forwards and palmed a surface that was not visible in the brightly lit armour case. It rippled a deep black in his surrounding touch area as small, nano plates of the blackest material flashed. Now I smiled.
"This is why I come to you." I murmured as I moved a hand forward and touched a finger to the armour. It flashed its black form briefly before mirroring the surroundings again.
"I call it the Vanguard."
"I do not care what you call it. We'll take seven." I dismissed as I turned back to the rest of the room, seeking out more items.
He merely nodded his head, long used to my high expectations–running the logistics through his mind. He already knew credits were an utter item to us and it was quality we prioritised. When I saw something worth our time, I had them in our hands before any other.
"As you may guess. It is stronger, it is lighter and it can be set to mimic surrounding materials of the wearer for ultimate incognito. In the words of your dear Second Proximo–you may shake off a plasma round to the chest." He confirmed with a smile.
I cracked a smile of my own before dropping a nod. "Seven." I confirmed.
He answered with a bright smile and folded his hands behind his immaculate three-piece suit.
"May I suggest your weapon choice." Again, merely a statement aired when he knew I gave close regard to his opinion.
"Always." I answered.
He swiped yet again and more hexagon weapon racks descended from the ceiling. This time we beheld blades. Lots of blades.
"Customisable daggers to your hand print. Press like so–" He pushed the hilt base and a blade shot out like shard of diamond. "Titanium for light weight and strength. Edge coating in serrated Vanta glass." He finished with a heavy look as he turned the blade slowly in a white gloved hand.
"Vanta glass..." I mused, as I bent closely to gaze into its small teeth. "You wouldn't have extracted Vanta fish venom and inserted that into a blade would you, Xafra? Because that would be in danger of genius." I said quietly as I watched the light glint wickedly off the black spiked edge.
He carefully set the blade back in its case with its twin beside it. He allowed a slow chuckle. "You challenge me to raise expectations and standards of myself. It will not be my fault how many fall to the work of said expectations."
"Indeed, they will fall." I barely kept the growl out of my voice.
He eyed me carefully dancing around the new anger in the air. "The venom of course, gives the victim minutes at most before their demise. I would suggest a minimal entry wound for subtle effect. There are no weapons using such means of poison on the markets but the symptoms are clear. The kill should be made with the touch of a butterfly wing. A paper cut to which none are the wiser. After all, I had other designs for more forceful use..." He drawled darkly as he swiped the holo and the deadly pair disappeared.
"I will take those for myself. My personal guard will not need poisoned blades." I informed him simply. He tucked away this information as he went and nodded us to the next shelf.
After many more minutes like this and demands for multiple batches, modifications for more ease to wield and conceal–we had reached our business. I clasped hands with Xafra and he grinned over them.
"Excellent business as usual, Scorpion. I take note of all your requests and keenly accept. You can expect shipments to locations of your choosing by week's end."
"Make that two days and Proximo will double your price." I told him without room for argument. But the way his eyes lit up like black crystals told me it was enough compensation.
He released my hand and set a fist to his heart. "I'll see it done."
"Good. My thanks, Xafra. You make it all... too easy." I uttered with the smallest of smiles that spoke of more than just business. His own smile mirrored mine and he set out a hand again for us to join my guard and arrange our next steps in sweeping Makayla Xavier out of the most secure place in Merridian.
– M A K A Y L A –
I had drifted in the too-soft pillows for hours... I didn't want to think of the past or the future. I wanted to stare off at walls, at glass curves of furniture and the wavy leaves of the well kept plants hanging from the ceiling in mint and turquoise hues.
After too may hours of self pity and nothingness, life sounded in the far off corner of my room. A robotic melody. My wrist holo sang to life. I hadn't heard the tone in so long I was thrown back into reality when it persisted.
I rolled out of the thick and high white of the bed and landed on the balls of my feet. I always did seem to possess more coordination since those training exercises with... I pushed the thought away as I strode to my long glass desk.
I swiped it off the surface and it silenced as I slid it against my wrist. A light glow emanated from the holo glass until it scanned my face.
"Welcome, Miss Xavier. You have 56 unread messages, 18 calendar events, 27 voice record–"
"Confirmed." I said in a bored voice. "Play voice records."
"5:00pm, May 3rd. Imperial Security Head, Nicholas Scarsberg–"
I groaned loudly the moment the title was uttered. My hard ass head of security was a pitbull of a human, with his militant need for punctuality and protocol. My hand was already swiping to skip the moment his voice cut into the air. "Miss Xavier, it is the up most import–"
"5:15pm, May 3rd. Imperial Security Head, Nicho–"
"Delete all voice recordings from Nicholas Scarsberg." I interrupted flatly.
"Confirmed." The robotic female told me cheerfully. "You have 15 remaining voice recordings."
"Confirm." I sighed as I slouched into my desk chair and spun on it aimlessly. I plucked a small object from my table as I went.
"1:45pm, May 4th. Emperor Xavier the 6th–"
"Delete all voice recordings from Emperor Xavier." I stated, throwing a miniature stone statue of my father's head in the air with a hand and catching it.
"You have 9 remaining voice recordings." She answered me happily.
"That's more like it." I muttered. "Play all."
"7:23pm, May 7th. Velron Archeon." I sat up at this, I had almost completely forgotten about Sir Archeon's son. That train wreckage of an evening had been quite the stir...
"Miss Xavier." A formal but slightly wary voice began. "Firstly, I wanted to apologise for the mess I caused the other night at your Father's masquerade gala. It was not my intention to cause such unrest between yourself and your father. I hope you can forgive me." I shook my head at his words, how polite and innocent he was and how wrong he had it entirely about the one responsible... "–if you would allow me I would very much like to make amends. My father is hosting a small event of his own and we are to invite our closest friends to enjoy Merridian's orchestra play in our sky tower at the end of this month. I would be most honoured if you would join me. Hope to speak soon."
His polite and hesitant voice fell away and I groaned and brushed my blonde locks off my face. Well that had been months ago... He must now think I distain him from complete lack of response.
"11:45pm, May 9th. Tristan Goldsmith." I almost threw my holo off of me in disgust. As soon as his drawling tone sounded my finger was moving, "–Miss Xavier, my darling I have not–"
"Goodbye Tristan." I answered him happily. "Delete all voice recordings from Mr Tristan Goldsmith, thank you. Also kindly block contact."
"Confirmed, voice recordings deleted. Contact blocked from comm link." She reported merrily.
If only the real thing were as easy, I thought dryly.
"5 voice recordings remaining." She sang. The remaining messages I only half paid attention to were of updates to my father's events and small courtesy invites of other political figures around the city but when the final message arrived it was from only one week prior.
"–Velron Archeon." His low and formal voice sounded once more. "Miss Xavier, I was sorry to hear that you had taken ill these last few months. This was all we have been told through your father. Most are not concerned as we are aware of your renowned medical teams. Please do not hesitate to contact me whenever you feel able, I would much like to know you are well again."
I sighed and leant my head back. He deserved to know the truth. He had been nothing short of a kind and concerned friend to me and he barely knew me. This could easily have been another agenda because of my position but there was an earnest and honest nature I had gathered from him those months ago in the ball room. I owed him as little as a comm call.
I swiped and cleared all missed contacts and spoke clearly.
"Comm link, Velron Archeon."
It rang all of three times before a surprised voice answered me.
"Miss Xavier, I was not expecting–I am happy you called." He cut through his own words.
I smiled to myself as I spun the chair again. "Appears I am back from my death bed, or so my father would spin it."
He let out a cautious chuckle. "You make it sound like words were twisted..." He ventured.
"Something like that. Listen, I feel I owe you more of an apology than you do–"
"Not at all–" He hurried out but I interrupted his preparation for another apology. God I had been away from courtesy for so long it almost seemed like we'd lose the day before anyone said anything...
"Hear me out." He fell silent. "It has been many months since I have been around... should we say Imperial company. I long wish to sit down and speak to one that has been versed in what is going on without a stiff collar and upper lip." I heard a light chuckle leave him. "I think a good start would be with you. I seem to recall missing one of your first invites..." I left the sentence hanging for a second before he picked up.
"Of course, it would be my pleasure. I cannot imagine what the months away must have been like in a position such as your own."
"Yes well, we should rectify it. How about you meet me in my father's tower." I said easily, well knowing that I would not be leaving it anytime soon– "Let's say tomorrow one o'clock?"
A brightness entered his voice when he replied and I fought the urge to laugh. I had much to be caught up on in the upper Sectors and hearing it from one that didn't seem to be a social climber was a breath of fresh air. "You can count on me being there. I was hoping that your father's gala was not our last word so I'm very happy you called, Makayla."
I nodded mostly to myself. I would need to tone down the fancied invitations before he got the wrong idea about our meet but that was tomorrow's problem.
"Perfect. My guard will meet you in the lobby and take you up. See you soon, Velron." I told him.
"Until tomorrow, Miss Xavier." He said formally.
I ended the comm. A slight buzz had entered my blood. Something that was a new plan, something to look forward to in the otherwise hazed cloud that was my Imperial imprisonment.