*Tuk*
*Tuk*
*Tuk*
*Tuk*
*Tuk*
"Fuck..." Marcellus whispered.
He’s been tapping buttons of TV remote in the living room, and there was not a single channel worth binging on.
"Where’s my phone though?" He whispered.
*click*
Maeve’s door finally opened as she stepped out wearing a loosefit grey pajamas and shirt that remained untucked with upper buttons undone. Her hair were now tied in a ponytail.
"..." She took a lot of time getting out to confront him since what happened moments ago.
"Ah, finally. I was getting bored," Marcellus gestured at the sofa opposite to him.
Without saying anything, she took a seat in front of him with her hands on her thighs and back straight in formal tone.
While Marcellus still wore the black robe and his hair were now dry from the conditioner’s air.
"So...Young Master, someone put nerve agents in our pillows?" Maeve asked.
"Yes." Marcellus leaned back into the sofa, lacing his fingers together.
"Cholinergic," he said. "First-generation, if I had to guess. Which is crude, but effective against someone whose anatomy has been evolved."
And then he began in one breath.
"It doesn’t attack the body directly, not really. It attacks the signal; the chemical relay your nerves use to tell your muscles what to do. Under normal circumstances, that signal turns itself off after firing. This doesn’t let it turn off, imagine a switch stuck in the on position forever until the entire system floods and seizes, that sounds like something that kills quickly and exactly, that is what it does to a modified body, but awakeners nerves, I believe don’t carry ordinary signal, which means whatever inefficient little poison was designed for a normal soldier in some normal war doesn’t behave the same way once it hits us. It’s not being carrier through the body anymore its being carried through the conduit, which means instead of a slow decline over hours like vomiting, sweating, all the theatrical business you’d expect from something this primitive, you get something much faster, and much effective, right up. Time depends on how much was absorbed, and for how long we were both breathing it in before I noticed. Contact exposure through skin is slower than inhalation. Inhalation is what would’ve happened if we did not notice it, and we would have fell into sleep from which we wouldn’t be waking up until days passed at least. The most elegant part isn’t this, in fact it’s that whatever the preparator used as a carrier solvent is disgustingly volatile, you know stuff of low density, high vapor pressure, practically begging to combust, like light one corner of that pillow and I’d wager the whole thing goes up before you can blink. Which tells me two things, one, whoever made this wanted a clean way to destroy the evidence afterward---"
"Stop!" Maeve raised her palm, then pressed a finger lightly against her own lips.
The gesture was sharp enough to cut his monologue cleanly.
Marcellus closed his mouth and waited, still leaning back against the sofa, fingers laced together.
Maeve lowered her hand and sighed.
"...So it was a nerve agent," she said. "And someone is trying to abduct us."
"Yes! You’re a genius!" Marcellus gave a thumbs up.
"..."
"Who has this kind of access?" she asked herself, and thought for a moment.
"We can just wait and find out," Marcellus said.
"I mean...we both are already asleep, right? Or maybe just you, I sleep really late, the abductor would’ve thought of that," he said.
"This is not a joke, young master. We have people who’re dangerous and from criminal background in the Royal Wing, it can cost you your life," She said.
It wasn’t long enough, as if waiting for the words to come out, they heard rattling sound from the main door.
"I’ll welcome them!" Marcellus whispered.
Maeve stayed quiet for a moment, she stared at the door for a moment, and then back at Marcellus. She shook her head and stood up, walking towards her bedroom, and clicked the door shut.
*Binp*
The lock turned green as the keycard was accepted, and the main door of their suite opened.
The man who stepped inside was large, broad shouldered, black-haired, the same brute Marcellus had watched drive a smaller cadet through a corridor wall earlier that evening.
His eyes found Marcellus immediately as the door shut behind him. The man wore a brown shirt that remained untucked over black pants.
A slow smirk appeared on his face. He said nothing, he simply walked forward, dropped onto the sofa opposite to Marcellus and settled in as if the room belonged to him.
"..."
"..."
Marcellus and the brute stared each other in the eyes without blinking for a moment.
"You’re not staff, the way you entered was too clean for a standard keycard, and you didn’t check the corners."
"You expected me to be unconscious, that’s why you sat down instead of reaching for whatever you’re after...you’re adjusting." Marcellus tilted his head.
There was still no answer.
Marcellus stayed quiet for a moment, and then looked at Maeve’s door.
"Someone sent you for her, not me. If I were the primary target, you would’ve confirmed I was down before sitting. You looked at her door the moment you came in."
The large man’s eyes flicked once.
"You talk a lot for someone who was supposed to be asleep." He said.
"What can I say, it’s a real bad habit." Marcellus replied.
"Who’s after her?" Marcellus asked.
’Well she sure is someone who loves bossing around, I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he thought.
"After her? No. Someone wants her," the man said.
"The Bishop wants her," he said.
Marcellus did not say anything to that, the man in front of him was serious when he said that.
"The Bishop wants your assistant. He’s someone who ranks in top hundreds, and could challenge her if he wanted to, but it’s not the force that he wants to use." The man said.
"In exchange for her, he’ll offer you, the heir of Severans the support of Bishop family, and a rather beautiful assistant if that’s what you desire. Their support can strengthen your position considering your standing in the family is quite weak for an heir. The support will last till you inherit the Severans, and you can make another demands if you want to."
"This will be an official deal, one made via contracts and not word of the mouth," the man said.
Marcellus listened without interrupting.
When the man finished, the living room fell quiet again.
"The Bishop." Marcellus repeated that name. "One of top hundred, and offering family and personal support, and a replacement assistant, in exchange for mine."
"That’s a very clean offer for someone who started the evening by putting nerve agent on our pillows."
"The sedative was a precaution. You were supposed to stay asleep. Orders changed when I found you awake. The Bishop doesn’t want trouble with Severans. He wants the girl." The man said.
Marcellus’s gaze drifted briefly toward Maeve’s closed door, then returned.
"What makes her worth a formal contract and the backing of Bishop family?" he asked.
"Not my business." The man replied.
"What’s your rank’s range?" Marcellus pried again.
"Two hundreds," the man replied.
"Wow, you must be his personal pet, you’re pretty important," Marcellus said.
"..."
"..."
"What if I were to refuse?" he asked.
"I suppose your family will be compensated for the little harm we inflict on you, would cost a sum, but worth the trouble for Bishop," the man replied.
Marcellus stood up listening to that. He nodded as if really considering and contemplating on what the man had said.
The black robe settled around him as he moved. He did not look tense at all, if anything, he looked like someone drown in thoughts since the conversation had reached a natural end.
"I understand," he said.
He walked around the low table, and stopped a short distance behind the large man.
The brute remained seated, still turned toward the place Marcellus had been.
From this angle the broad back and thick neck were fully exposed.
Marcellus lifted on hand and rested it lightly on the man’s shoulder, fingers spreading over the muscles as if testing the density and feeling him.
"You really are built for this kind of work," he murmured. "Solid."
The brute was starting to get irritated.
"Are you fucking gay---"
[Executing: Oscillation. Rate: 19%]
The same instant Marcellus let his power surge into the brute’s body, Oscillation shivered the mass at lethal levels.
*BOOM*
The contact lasted less than a second, and during that very moment, the right hand and shoulder of the brute disintegrated with a force, bursting debris of blood and flesh everywhere.
The brute tried to run and stumbled in the center of the living room as the explosive force of his legs made a Jaggard calculation, dropping him on the floor.
"Fuc---Ahhh---You motherfuc---"
The rest of the curse dissolved into a raw, choked scream. He thrashed on the floor with his remaining hand, clawing at the ruined stump where his shoulder had been as blood pumped freely across the polished floor.
The scream was still echoing when the main door slammed open a second time.
A second man stepped through at speed.
He was leaner than the brute, shorter by a head, but built with tight functional muscle. Dark hair, and a thin scar running on one side of his lips.
The second man looked at Marcellus first and then back at the brute screaming.
"I don’t know what happened," Marcellus raised both of his hands.
"His hand just burst open!" he said.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" the man screamed in confusion.
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