Chapter 12: Winter Contingency
Do not be misled: "Bad company corrupts good character."
1 Corinthians 15:33
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I'm six years old again, living in a cramped apartment that feels smaller by the minute.
Tension fills the air as my parents hurriedly pack our belongings, their faces etched with worry. Dad works methodically, his jaw set, while Mom's movements are jittery, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. They whisper to each other, their words lost to me.
A radio crackles in the background, the reporter's anxious voice describing a city-wide protest. Mentions of tanks and a possible coup send shivers through me, even though I don't fully understand what's happening. Suddenly, the reporter's voice cuts off, replaced by scuffling and shouting. "¡Vámonos! ¡Vámonos de aquí!" they urge their crew to find safety.
My parents turn to me, their expressions grave. "Alexander," Dad says solemnly, "go say goodbye to Sebastian. Give him a big hug."
I nod, confused but obedient. In the neighboring apartment, Sebastian's parents embrace me tightly, his mother whispering, "Dios te bendiga." Sebastian and I share a wordless hug, an unspoken promise to reunite soon.
Back in our apartment, my parents usher me into the car. Mom sits beside me while Dad takes the wheel. As we pull away, I gaze out the window at the unfolding chaos. People shout, their voices a mix of anger and fear. I turn to Dad. "Isn't Uncle William coming with us?"
He doesn't respond, his grip tightening on the steering wheel.
"Father?" I press, unable to shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.
Finally, he answers, his voice strained. "No, son. Your uncle isn't joining us."
"But why?" I demand, frustration and confusion bubbling within me.
Mom shushes me gently, pulling me close. "Your questions will have to wait, sweetheart," she murmurs, stroking my hair. "Just know that—"
Her words are cut off as Dad swerves violently, narrowly avoiding a collision. I peer out the rear window, my eyes widening at the sight of tankettes rolling down the street, soldiers marching alongside them.
Gunshots ring out, sending panicked civilians fleeing. Dad whips the car down a side street, out of the line of fire.
I tremble in Mom's arms, tears pricking my eyes. "I'm scared, Mom," I whisper.
She holds me tighter, kissing the top of my head. "Shh, my love. Everything will be alright. Your father won't let anything happen to us."
I nod against her chest, trying to find comfort in her words.
"Where are we going?" I ask after a moment, my voice muffled.
"Somewhere far away," she responds gently. "Somewhere the danger can't touch us."
A thought occurs to me, sending a fresh wave of panic crashing over me. "And Sebastian? What about his parents? Will they be coming with us?"
Mom's expression crumples, and she shakes her head slowly. "They won't."
"But why?" I demand, my voice rising.
"They... can't manage to come with us now," Mom explains, glancing at Dad.
Dad's voice cuts me off before I can protest. "Son, you need to trust us."
He falls silent again, focusing on navigating the chaotic streets. Up ahead, the telltale glow of flashing lights suggests the main roads are likely blocked.
Mom leans forward, worry etched into her features. "Napoleon, do you think the government has blocked off the highways?"
Dad's jaw tightens, but he nods. "It's possible. But Lucho swears he'll let us through. We'll make it out."
"Are you certain?" Mom presses, doubt coloring her voice.
"I'm sure, Mary," he responds firmly. His gaze flicks to the empty passenger seat, where a small, mysterious box sits.
Mom seems to understand the unspoken implication, her expression hardening with resolve. She turns to me, gripping my shoulders and holding me at arm's length.
With a gentle shake of her head, she sweeps her long hair back, revealing a simple leather cord around her neck. Attached is a cross pendant, gleaming dully in the dim light.
Wordlessly, she slips the necklace over her head and fastens it around my neck, adjusting it until the pendant rests against my chest.
Cupping my face in her hands, she murmurs intensely, "No matter what happens, this will keep you safe. Do you understand?"
I nod mutely, my fingers wrapping around the cross as solemnity washes over me.
The image of my mother distorts, her features shifting and blurring. Her dark hair lightens to a warm chestnut, and her golden eyes darken to a rich brown.
"Mary! Mary, listen to me..." Dad's urgent voice fades away, replaced by a woman's concerned tone calling out a different name.
"Alex? Alexander!"
I startle awake, disoriented. I'm no longer in that cramped car from my childhood memories. Instead, I stare up at Summer's worried face hovering above me inside my room aboard the Astral Express.
"Summer," I whisper hoarsely, cradling her face in my hands. I pull her down, burying her nose in the crook of my neck as I hold her tightly against me. The familiar scent of her shampoo and vanilla perfume washes over me, soothing the lingering unease from my dream.
"Alex, what's wrong?" Summer murmurs, her breath warm against my skin.
"Nothing's wrong," I lie, savoring the feeling of having her in my arms again.
Summer hesitates, pulling back slightly to study my face. "Bad dreams?" she asks softly.
"How did you know?"
Instead of answering, Summer's features begin to shift and distort. Her chestnut locks darken to a fiery red, her eyes brightening to golden amber. Himeko's face comes into focus, her expression tinged with melancholic understanding.
Crying? I raise a hand to my face, startled to find my fingers coming away damp with tears. When did I start...?
I swipe at my eyes, trying to clear them, but when I blink them open again, Himeko's visage has melted away. In her place stands Serval, her blue eyes regarding me with a soft, almost fond smile.
"It's okay, Alexander," she says, her tone soothing. "You're safe here with me."
A chill runs down my spine as alarm bells start ringing in my mind. Something isn't right. This all feels... off. Wrong.
"What..." I tense, frowning as I try to make sense of the situation.
Serval leans closer, her breath warm against my ear as she whispers, "There's no need for secrets between us, is there?"
I jerk back, my hands flying to her shoulders as I push her away, guilt twisting in my gut. "Serval, I—"
The words die on my lips as her features morph and change once more. Serval's teasing smirk melts away, replaced by the face of a woman with red-wine-colored eyes and hair, looking at me solemnly.
"Kafka...?" I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest.
Her voice is low and urgent as she murmurs. "You need to wake up, handsome. Time's running out."
With a gentle touch, she guides my face to the side, forcing me to look out the nearby window. My blood turns to ice in my veins as I take in the horrific sight greeting me.
Amidst the vast expanse of stars, Nanook's imposing figure hovers, his piercing gaze boring into me, filled with a malevolent intensity that chills me to the bone. His lips curl into a cruel sneer, and suddenly, a searing agony rips through my body.
The last thing I see before the blackness claims me is a pair of molten gold eyes burning with a promise of utter annihilation.
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I wake up from my nightmare with a gasp, drenched in sweat as my heart pounds violently against my chest. Disoriented, I try to discern where I am. My eyes dart around the dimly lit room until recognition sets in - the hotel room where I've been staying with March and Dan.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I will my racing heart to slow down. Neither of the two seem to have stirred. Quietly, I slip out from under the thin sheets, my bare feet meeting the cool floor. A glance at the digital clock tells me it's four-thirty in the morning, system time.
Less than three hours since I came back from the Herta Space Station.
Knowing I won't be able to fall back asleep after whatever that was, I make my way to the bathroom, careful not to make too much noise. Inside, I close the door and flick on the harsh fluorescent lights, squinting against the sudden brightness.
Approaching the washbasin, I turn on the faucet and splash some cold water on my face. The shock of the icy liquid grounds me, helping to tether me back to reality. I shake my hands briskly, clearing off the excess droplets before reaching for a towel to pat my skin dry.
Clutching the towel, I finally work up the nerve to look at my own reflection. What I see makes me grimace—even darker circles have formed under my eyes, accentuating the sunken look brought on by sheer exhaustion. My bloodshot eyes stand out, the vivid gold of my irises sharp against the reddened whites.
Running a hand along my jawline, I feel the beginnings of stubble prickling against my palm. It's been a few days since I last shaved - another sign of how haggard I've become.
With a weary sigh, I pull out my phone and open up the chat log with Herta, scrolling through the messages until I find her instructions. My eyes skim over her words, committing them to memory once again.
"I don't want your body failing on me," she had said pragmatically. "Stellaron or not, it can only withstand the effects of the simulated universe for so long. Take this serum with you. Inject it if you're unable to acquire proper sleep and rest. It will fill you with vitality and help stabilize your markers. Do not use it again within 72 hours unless it's an emergency."
Summoning the item in question, my gaze falls to the sleek, high-tech syringe she had procured from the station's medical bay, the yellow liquid inside its clear vessel seeming to glow faintly under the harsh bathroom lights.
Steeling myself, I press the needle against the taut skin of my shoulder. I suck in a sharp breath as I depress the plunger, the serum flooding into my bloodstream with a faint burning sensation.
As I remove the now-empty syringe, I recall Herta's words of caution.
"Any after-effects?"
"Fever, tremors, pain," she had replied with casual indifference that still makes my jaw clench. "They should go away within an hour."
Then, with a smirk, she had added, "But it'll hurt. It'll hurt a lot."
True to her prediction, my hands begin to shake uncontrollably mere seconds after administering the dose. I drop the syringe, the clattering sound seeming unbearably loud in the confines of the small bathroom. Gritting my teeth, I grab onto my trembling arms, one of them clutching my black tank top, trying in vain to still the violent tremors.
Exhaling shakily, I lean heavily against the sink as I fight against the waves of pain coursing through my body. Beads of sweat roll down my face as I force my eyes open, meeting my own piercing gaze in the mirror.
"You've survived worse," I growl, the words sounding more like a threat than encouragement.
Trembling hands grip the edges of the sink, knuckles turning white from the sheer force. The muscles in my arms strain, tendons pressing against taut skin as I brace myself against the agony.
"Do what's necessary," I hiss through clenched jaws, eyes blazing with determination. "Don't lose."
Sucking in a ragged breath, I squeeze my eyes shut once more as another spasm wracks my body. Nails dig into my palms, drawing blood, but the stinging pain is nothing compared to the fire raging within.
"Don't break, Alexander. Never break."
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"Xander, are you alright? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine, March. Thanks for asking."
"If something's bothering you, you have to tell me! You can't be sleeping this little. Your eyes..."
"March is right. We're a team. If something's weighing on your mind, you don't have to bear it alone."
"... I appreciate the thought, Dan Heng. Just feeling a bit homesick, that's all."
"Oh..."
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
"Actually, yes. March, did you get that intel on the Starlight Café's owner?"
"We did! We have a profile with everything you asked for, and then some."
"Anything that stands out to you?"
"He likes Jazz. And coffee."
"Dan Heng, am I going crazy, or are you messing with me right now?"
"Yes."
"Dan Heng! Stop teasing him!"
"It got a smile out of him, didn't it?"
"I know, but this is serious stuff! Seriously serious!"
"Alright, alright... I wasn't joking about him liking Jazz—that's why he regularly hosts those kinds of groups at his establishment. But we heard he likes two things even more."
"And those are...?"
"Reputation... and money."
"Really?"
"Yup! Apparently, his employees get paid very well, but there are rumors he pays a lot of money to people within the Council of Belobog's Architects to reduce his taxes."
"... March, Dan Heng, do you know if they'll be hosting any bands today?"
"Oh yeah! There was an announcement in the commercial district about three different bands playing."
"Do you have their names?"
"March, wasn't one called 'The Midnight'?"
"Uhum!"
"Perfect. Thank you both for the intel. Could you forward it to me through text, please?"
"Already done. Hey—where are you going so early?"
"Need to check out these 'The Midnight' guys. Who knows? They might be decent."
——————————————————————
Dmitry Ivanov leans back in his chair, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he surveys the bustling Starlight Café. Hours before the official opening, the place already buzzes with activity as the staff prepares for the afternoon's entertainment.
His gaze drifts to Natalya, his manager, fussing over menus at a nearby table. She catches his eye, giving him a tight-lipped smile before returning to her work, just as anxious as he is about tonight's event.
Sighing heavily, he stubs out his cigarette and beckons Natalya over. She hurries to his side, brows furrowed with worry.
"Everything set for the bands?" Dmitry asks gruffly, scanning the cafe for missed details.
Natalya nods, smoothing her apron. "Yes, Mr. Ivanov. The stage is ready, sound system tested, and extra seating arranged."
Dmitry grunts in acknowledgment, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. These monthly music nights always draw big crowds from all over Belobog, showcasing local talent while raking in profits. He can't afford slip-ups tonight.
Suddenly, Natalya's phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through the ambient noise. She shoots Dmitry an apologetic look before answering, waving her hand for him to continue.
Dmitry nods, leaning back as Natalya's side of the conversation filters through.
"Hello? Yes, this is Natalya from the Starlight Café... What do you mean they canceled?" Her eyes widen in alarm, and she quickly covers the mouthpiece before hissing at Dmitry, "It's The Midnight.
Dmitry slams his fist on the table, swearing under his breath. They were one of the heavily advertised headlining acts.
Natalya winces, turning her attention back to the phone. "Is there anything we can do? Nothing at all?" Her shoulders slump in defeat. "Are you serious? Then what am I supposed to—" She pinches the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply. "Qlipoth damn us all. Fine... I'll handle it."
As she ends the call, a voice pipes up from beside them. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear your dilemma."
Dmitry turns to see a tanned man standing next to their table, an easy smile on his face. Dressed casually in a pastel-patterned turtleneck, jeans, and brown chukka boots, his stance is relaxed and self-assured.
"Don't you see we're having a conversation?" Dmitry growls menacingly. "Where are your manners?"
The man raises his hands placatingly, his smile never faltering. "My apologies, I meant no disrespect. I was about to order coffee, thinking the shop was open with all the activity, when I overheard your dilemma about the canceled band."
He pauses, letting his words hang in the air before continuing. "It just so happens I know a group who could fill that slot tonight. And I daresay they'd put on a better show than the ones who canceled on you."
Dmitry narrows his eyes, rising to loom over the man. Despite his age, Dmitry is tall and imposing, using his height to his advantage as he stares down at the stranger.
"Who the hell are you?" he demands, his voice a low rumble.
The man doesn't flinch, his smile widening slightly as he meets Dmitry's gaze head-on. "Mr. Ivanov, wouldn't you like to make more money in a single day than what you generate in an entire month?"
With a smooth motion, the man produces a small pouch from his pocket and presses it against Dmitry's chest, the metallic clink of coins audible even over the ambient noise.
Dmitry's eyes narrow, but he doesn't push the man away. Instead, he snatches the pouch from the man's hand, weighing it in his palm. He frowns, calculating the approximate number of coins inside – around 356 shield coins by his estimate.
The man lets out an appreciative whistle. "Impressive. I wonder if you could also discern the denomination by weight alone?"
Dmitry shoots a glance at Natalya, who quickly steps forward and peers into the pouch. Her eyes widen in shock, and she sucks in a sharp breath, stunned by what she sees.
"There are almost 90,000 shields in here," she breathes, her voice tinged with disbelief.
The man nods, his smile never wavering. "And that's merely in exchange for a bit of your time, Mr. Ivanov."
Dmitry's gaze snaps back to the stranger, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Where did you get this kind of money?"
The man arches an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by Dmitry's hostility. "I take it you're familiar with the Landau family?"
A muscle twitches in Dmitry's jaw as he grunts in acknowledgment.
"I already know what this is about. I'm not having that woman play a single track of rock 'n' roll in this establishment," Dmitry snarls, his grip tightening on the pouch of coins. "I'd rather die, and this entire cafe be buried with me with the Eternal Freeze before I allow that monstrosity to be played here."
The man's smile takes on a sharper edge, his eyes glinting with amusement. "They won't be playing rock 'n' roll. They'll be playing smooth jazz."
A bark of laughter escapes Dmitry's lips, the sound harsh and mocking. "Her? Playing smooth jazz?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Everyone in Belobog knows Serval Landau for two things: being fired from the Architects… and that she can't do anything but play rock."
He scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. "If she couldn't even handle her job, what makes you think she's competent enough to play anything else?"
The man's eyes narrow dangerously—a flicker of emotion before his expression smooths over again. "She'll be able to… because I taught her how."
Dmitry scoffs, openly dismissive. "You? Sorry, pal, I don't believe it for a second."
Internally, however, Dmitry's respect for the man grows a fraction. Few people dare to talk to him so brazenly, especially in his own establishment.
The man tilts his head toward a set of instruments adorning the cafe walls, his gaze lingering on a sleek, polished guitar. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches into his pocket and produces another pouch, setting it on the table with a dull thud.
Natalya's eyes widen even further, her gaze darting between the two pouches and the stranger's impassive face.
"I'll make you a wager, Mr. Ivanov. I'll play the guitar and sing a song for you. If you like what you hear, you give us a shot at performing tonight. If not, I'll leave without either of these pouches."
Dmitry regards the man skeptically, his mind racing. There's a considerable sum of money on the line, but something in the stranger's demeanor piques his curiosity.
"You're willing to bet all of that on this?" he asks, nodding toward the pouches.
"Perhaps I need the notoriety more than you do the money."
Dmitry considers this for a moment, his gaze flickering between the pouches and the stranger's face. Finally, he nods, a slow, decisive motion.
"Alright," he says, his voice gruff. "Let's see what you've got. But let me make one thing clear - even if you somehow manage to impress me, you and your band won't play a single note of rock 'n' roll here. Is that understood?"
The man inclines his head, his eyes gleaming with something akin to triumph. "We won't. You have my word."
Dmitry leans back in his chair, gesturing toward the guitar mounted on the wall. "Well, then. Let's hear it."
——————————————————————
Compilator notes:
Xander adds Serval to the group chat
Xander adds Pelageya Sergeyevna to the group chat
System: Pelageya Sergeyevna has been made an administrator
System: Serval has been made an administrator
Xander: Clear up your schedules. Mechanical Fever is playing today.
Pelageya Sergeyevna: ?
Serval: ?
Serval is texting...
Serval: Xander, our show at the Starlight Café was canceled. I thought I mentioned this to you.
Xander: Not anymore.
Serval: ?
Xander is texting...
Xander: I spoke to Dmitry — the owner. The guy's a piece of work.
Xander: One of the bands scheduled for today's event canceled on them. I managed to convince him to take Mechanical Fever as their replacement.
Pelageya Sergeyevna: !
Pelageya Sergeyevna adds Lynx to the group chat
Lynx: ?
Lynx: What's this? Wasn't this show canceled?
Lynx: Also, who's Xander?
Xander is texting...
Xander: Your brother's arch-nemesis, a probationary mechanic at your sister's workshop, and the newest member of your band.
Xander: The last one's temporary.
Xander: All in that order.
Lynx: What
Serval: Xander, please stop confusing my sister.
Serval: Also, you're not joking?
Xander sends a file: A high-res photo of 4 VIP passes in hand, the name Mechanical Fever etched below Starlight Cafe's logo on each.
Xander sends a file: A high-res photo, selfie, a glass of whisky in hand, Xander smiling at the camera. Dmitry Ivanov laughs next to him.
Xander: Do you think he likes me?
Lynx: WHAT
Serval: XANDER YOU'RE NOT JOKING
Lynx: WAIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN NEWEST MEMBER
Lynx is texting...
Lynx: WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN
Serval is texting...
Serval: XANDER WHAT DID YOU DO?
Xander: I'm on my way to Neverwinter. Talk details there. You should all come.
Xander: I got a small heads-up though. Hope it isn't an issue.
Serval: Whatever could be a problem after you gave us such great news?!
Xander is texting...
Xander: We can't play Rock n' Roll.
Lynx: TF?
Pelageya Sergeyevna: What?
Serval: what
Xander: Talk to you soon.
Xander has left the chat
Lynx is texting...
Lynx: SERVAL
Lynx: WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME YOU GOT A HANDSOME BOYFRIEND
Lynx: LOOK AT THOSE EYESSSS
Serval has left the chat
Pelageya Sergeyevna sends a laughing emoji sticker
Lynx: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
——————————————————————
"Supreme Guardian."
"Captain Landau. I trust you have the information I requested?"
"Yes. Here's a profile of the suspect."
"That'll be all then, Captain."
"Supreme Guardian... are you certain the description is accurate?"
"Are you questioning the visions of The Preservation, Captain Landau?"
"No, Supreme Guardian! I would never do such a thing. It's just..."
"Yes?"
"… I have someone in mind who fits the description perfectly."
"Tell me more."
——————————————————————
Guitar strings hum as I pluck the final note, letting it linger in the air before fading away. Turning to Serval, I watch as she lowers her guitar from playing position.
"That was nice," I say, running a hand through my hair. "What's your take?"
Serval checks her notes, concentration etched on her face. "I think I nailed that chorus, but I'm not entirely sure."
"You absolutely rocked it, sis," Lynx chimes in from the keyboards, giving Serval a thumbs up.
Pela looks up from behind the drums where she's been observing us, her intelligent eyes curious. "I'm impressed by how detailed your notes were on playing the song, Mister Xander. Did you write these lyrics?"
I shake my head, setting my guitar aside gently. "I can't take credit for someone else's work, Miss Sergeyevna."
She tilts her head. "Then who..."
"A woman I heard perform when I was a kid back in the Underworld," I say wistfully. "Her name was
Serval's eyes widen. "She must have had an amazing voice," she muses. "The vocals really drive this entire song."
"Absolutely," I agree with a nod. "You were flawless, by the way."
A buzzing sound interrupts our conversation as Pela's phone rings. She excuses herself to take the call, and Lynx, not wanting to be left as the third wheel, follows her out of the room.
Now alone with Serval, I lean back against the amp, studying her. She seems preoccupied, still scanning through her notes.
"You're amazing, you know that?" she says abruptly, meeting my gaze.
I raise an eyebrow. "What makes you say that?"
"How did you manage to persuade the Starlight Café owner to let us perform there?" She shakes her head in disbelief. "I only mentioned the issue to you once in passing."
I smirk. "Actually, it was twice. I first overheard you discussing it on the phone when I started my trial period here."
Serval blinks, then narrows her eyes at me playfully. "You're full of surprises."
She turns around, her back now facing me as she fiddles with her instrument. A few moments of silence pass before she speaks again, her voice soft.
"Xander...am I right to believe there's something between us?"
A familiar female voice suddenly speaks next to my ear, as clear as day.
"You're no stranger to this game, are you?"
I frown, resisting the urge to turn towards the source of the voice. In my mind's eye, the phantom of Summer appears, wearing leggings, boots, and a long, white turtleneck sweater that falls just above her knees. She notices how I look her up and down.
"Do you like it?" she purrs. "I remember you saying this style made you weak in the knees. Irresistible, you called it."
Serval continues, still facing away. "I mean...I'm sure you must have picked up on it already with Gepard's remarks yesterday."
Summer circles around Serval, observing her with an analytical gaze. "I can see why you're drawn to her," she murmurs. "Her blue eyes are stunning, like sapphires. Her high cheekbones and porcelain skin give her an ethereal beauty." She turns back to me with a sly smile. "She looks Russian. I don't recall you ever mentioning dating a European girl."
"And you haven't exactly discouraged it either," Serval goes on, "with your subtle comments and hints. What's a girl supposed to think?"
Summer smiles at me, a challenge in her eyes. "Will she be the first one you betray me with?"
I look down, my eyes lost in thought as memories flood my mind. Memories of Summer. Of her welcoming me home after a long day of work with a kiss. Of our passionate nights together.
Suddenly, Summer appears to my right, using her hand to guide my face back towards the rockstar. "Ah ah ah," she chides. "No looking away."
I grimace but comply, looking up at Serval's back once more.
"She's pouring her heart out to you, Alexander," Summer whispers in my ear. "She's already fallen for you. Time to own up to it." Her voice takes on a mocking tone. "Isn't that what you promised me? Why should she be any different?"
Finally, the Landau turns around to face me, her cheeks flushed. "What am I supposed to think, Xander?"
"Serval, I…"
"You can't hide behind the excuse that this girl isn't real," Summer whispers, her voice like silk caressing my skin. "You can't run from this."
Serval approaches me, her sapphire eyes searching my face. "Am I setting myself up for disappointment?" she asks, her voice laced with a vulnerability that cuts straight through me.
Summer leans in, her lips brushing against my ear. "Will you shatter her heart now? Or wait until you get the intel on the Stellaron and leave in pursuit of another woman, your beloved Kafka, who holds all the answers you seek?" She chuckles darkly. "I'm so envious..."
I reach out, taking Serval's hands in mine.
Her skin is soft, warm... alive.
"No..." I say, my voice hoarse. "I... I hope at the very least that I haven't made you think I'm just messing around."
Serval's gaze drops to our joined hands, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I... I don't trust easily. My time with the Architects, everything that happened back then..."
I give her hands a gentle squeeze. "Hey, hey... you don't need to talk about that. I don't care what they say."
"It's just... It's been a very, very long time since I ever..."
"Serval, look at me," I say softly.
She obeys, her eyes shining with a fragile vulnerability that tugs at something deep inside of me.
"If you're expecting me to give you that crap about not needing to define what this is, think again," I tell her firmly, her eyes widening. "You deserve better than that."
What the hell's wrong with me?
"I also..." I continue, forcing the words past the lump in my throat, "I also don't want to make you feel like you're diving into something without complete trust."
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what comes next. "How about this? Let's have a date tonight."
Summer's voice is like a dagger in my heart. "Oh, Alex… You certainly know how to charm a girl. Why am I not surprised? You said all the right things to me too."
Serval's eyes shimmer with a mixture of hope and disbelief. "Xander, you..."
I plow ahead, my words tumbling out in a rush. "We rock the café, make it a hit, you sign some autographs, maybe even take petition requests for anyone looking for Gepard's—"
Serval laughs at this, a musical sound that tears me apart.
"—and then we come back, tinker with some appliances until evening," I continue, my voice growing more confident. "Then, I leave, you get all dolled up, I get all spruced up, and I pick you up at your place at night, and we get to admire each other for a few hours over drinks?"
Serval nods, her eyes twinkling with happiness that cuts me to the core.
"Oh, here it comes..." Summer whispers, her voice dripping with mockery.
Serval's gaze suddenly lingers on my lips.
She leans in.
Panic grips me, and I recall Sebastian's words echoing in my mind.
"Are you still that good guy deep down? The one who wouldn't deliberately hurt a girl?"
I raise my hand, pressing it gently against her lips, blocking the kiss. For a brief second, alarm flashes in her eyes, but then I take her chin in my hand, lowering her face as I lean in close.
I can't do this. Not like this.
I plant a tender kiss on her forehead, closing my eyes. Not a simple peck, but a lingering caress, filled with all the tenderness and affection I can muster.
When I finally pull back, neither of us can meet the other's gaze, our faces lowered in a shared moment of intimacy.
"Let's not rush this. Not something this important," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
Serval nods, a radiant smile playing across her lips as she struggles to contain her joy.
"OH. MY. GOD."
The spell is broken by Lynx's exclamation as she appears from around the corner, her eyes twinkling with delight. "That was so... adorable! I can't even—!"
Serval's blush deepens, this time with embarrassment. "LYNX!" she cries, hurrying over to scold her younger sister.
As she moves away, Summer leans in close. "Always the perfect gentleman..."
I close my eyes, shame washing over me in waves.
"But don't let this fool you," she murmurs.
My eyes open, and I find myself looking down, unable to meet Summer's accusing gaze.
"Is this the price you're willing to pay to see me again?" she asks, her voice soft yet piercing.
I remain silent, unable to formulate a response.
——————————————————————
"Gepard... is this intel accurate?"
"Pela... I'm just as shocked as you are, but he's the only one who matches the description."
"Why am I only finding out about this now?"
"I only put the pieces together recently myself."
"Qlipoth help us... Serval will be..."
"I know... I know... I—I'll take care of it and support her. Can you make sure they don't suspect anything?"
"Of course. Do you honestly believe—"
"Pela... I'm just searching for answers at this point. I hope I'm mistaken. Alisa Rand forgive me, I hope the Supreme Guardian is wrong."
"Yeah... me too."
——————————————————————
I adjust the strap of my guitar, its familiar weight comforting against my body. The crowd's low murmur blends with clinking glasses and shuffling feet as people find their seats at the Starlight Café.
"Was changing our wardrobe so drastically really necessary?" Serval grumbles, tugging at her sharp black suit's lapels. "I feel completely out of my element."
I turn to her, taking in her sleek outfit - a stark contrast to her usual rocker chic style. Her blonde hair with blue streaks is pulled back into a tight ponytail, her face devoid of its usual bold makeup.
"Think of it as a special occasion," I reply lightly. Inside though, I can't help but agree with her. Dressed in a well-tailored navy blue suit myself, I feel like I'm playing dress-up.
Lynx fidgets with her own black blazer's hem, looking equally uncomfortable. Only Pela seems at ease, standing ramrod straight in her crisp white blouse and vest.
Lynx leans over to Pela. "Hey, are you feeling okay?" she murmurs. "You seem a little tense."
Pela offers a small, reassuring smile. "I'm just excited. It's not every day we get to play for a crowd like this."
A hush falls over the café as Dmitry takes the stage, tapping the microphone. "Let's have another round of applause for our previous performers!" His voice booms.
The crowd obliges with polite clapping, and I catch a few enthusiastic whoops from the back - no doubt March, ever the supportive one.
Dmitry waits for the noise to die down. "Now, I know the schedule said we were supposed to have a break, but it seems we have a special guest performance lined up instead." He pauses, a sly grin spreading across his weathered face. "You know what they say - the more, the merrier! Let's welcome Mechanical Fever to the stage!"
Confused muttering ripples through the audience, clearly not expecting an impromptu show. I spot March bouncing up and down in her seat, cheering loudly, while a more reserved Dan Heng claps politely beside her.
As the applause gradually builds, I lean over to Serval. "You ready for this?" I murmur.
She shoots me a sidelong glance, eyes narrowing. "If things get out of hand, you're taking the heat," she warns, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
I chuckle softly. "Fair enough." I turn to the others. "What about you two? Ready to rock?"
Lynx nods, expression determined. Pela simply offers a thumbs up, focus already zeroed in on her drumset.
Serval takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opens them again, there's a newfound intensity burning in their depths. "Alright, Mechanical Fever," she says, voice ringing with authority. "One, two, three, four..."
On cue, I launch into the opening riff, the deep, gritty notes from my guitar setting the tone. Lynx and Pela quickly fall into rhythm beside me, building a sultry, hypnotic beat that fills the air.
Serval steps up to the mic, fingers dancing across the strings of her electric guitar as she joins in with the vocals.
"I gave you all the love I got, I gave you more than I could give..." she croons, voice low and husky. "Gave you love."
The crowd falls silent, enraptured by the raw emotion pouring from Serval's lips. I lose myself in the music, fingers moving of their own accord as the familiar chords flow through me.
"I gave you all that I have inside," Serval continues, eyes slipping closed. "And you took my love... You took my love."
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a flurry of movement near the entrance. A group of Silvermane Guards files in, their crisp blue uniforms standing out against the dim lighting. Huh, that's odd... Did Gepard tell them about the performance?
My forehead creases with concern as more guards stream in, quickly filling up the back of the room. What's going on here?
"Didn't I tell you… what I believe?" Serval's voice cuts through my racing thoughts. "Did somebody say that… a love like that won't last?"
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the music. Gepard must have just spread the word, that's all. The Silvermane have every right to enjoy some entertainment too.
"Didn't I give you… all that I've got to… give, baby?" Serval sings, voice rising in a powerful crescendo.
And that's when I see him.
Gepard stands at the very back of the crowd, chiseled features set in a grim mask as he surveys the room with piercing blue eyes. Our gazes lock for the briefest of moments, and a shiver runs down my spine.
Those eyes... They're made of steel. Cold, hard, unforgiving.
A sense of dread washes over me as realization dawns. This isn't just a casual performance for the Silvermane Guards.
This is an ambush.
"I gave you all the love I got, I gave you more than I could give... Gave you love..."
"Alexander..."
I freeze, fingers stilling on the strings as a voice whispers beside me. My eyes widen as I recognize the deep, gravelly tone.
My father's.
"What did I teach you about looking at someone's eyes to assess their intentions?" he says, words ringing in my mind. "They never, ever lie."
"I gave you all that I have inside, and you took my love... You took my love..."
Serval's guitar picks up steam as the pre-chorus begins, the raw emotion in her voice sending a jolt through my system. My heart races as the lyrics seem to take on an eerie double meaning.
"I keep crying... I keep trying for you…"
"But how?" I think, confusion etched on my face. "We didn't alert anyone. I've been more than cautious—"
"Son!" My father's voice cuts through my thoughts, stern yet oddly calm. "This isn't the time for questions. You need to get March and Dan and escape!"
I open my mouth to protest, but the words die on my lips as an ominous feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
"There's nothing like you and I, baby..." Serval continues singing, voice soaring over the pounding rhythm.
"But—"
"Alexander, it wouldn't have mattered whether you lied or not." My father's disembodied voice echoes all around me. "See for yourself."
My eyes widen as they connect with a pair of cold, lavender orbs across the room - Cocolia's eyes, boring into me with an intensity that sends a chill down my spine.
In that moment, I feel it—the part of myself connected to Nanook, the Stellaron. It thrums within me as a cacophony of voices whispers, their words laced with malice and scorn.
"We found you, abomination."
"Supreme Guardian Cocolia!" someone in the crowd shouts, voice ringing out above the music.
The crowd parts, and I watch in stunned silence as Cocolia strides forward, every move exuding power and authority. Bronya follows at her side, piercing gray eyes locking onto me with an almost predatory gaze.
The moment our gazes meet, any lingering hope that I might be mistaken shatters into a million jagged pieces. There's no denying the cold, hard truth staring me in the face.
They know.
The music comes to an abrupt halt as Serval notices the drums have stopped playing. She turns, eyes widening when she sees the Intelligence Officer's anti-gravity cannons floating in the air, circling menacingly with barrels aimed squarely at my back.
"Pela... what are you doing?" Lynx whispers, fingers frozen on the keys of her synthesizer.
Pelageya's expression is grave, gaze locked onto me with steely resolve. She doesn't offer any explanation to her bewildered bandmates.
Serval whips her head back towards me, finally registering the commotion unfolding. Her brow furrows as she takes in Cocolia, Bronya, and Gepard amidst the sea of Silvermane Guards flooding the cafe.
Bronya trains the sight of her bayonet rifle on me, prompting panicked gasps and screams from nearby civilians. Those closest to the stage drop to the floor, while others further away scramble for the exits.
Gepard steps forward, slamming Earthwork onto the floor with a resounding thud. "Xander," he calls out, voice booming. "By order of the Supreme Guardian and the Council of the Architects, you're under arrest for suspected terrorist activities to plot against the government of Belobog."
"Gepard, what in the world are you talking about?!" Serval shouts, outraged. She moves to stand in front of me, shielding me from their view.
Gepard's expression remains stony. "Serval Landau," he says, tone leaving no room for argument. "Please step away from the suspect. He'll be taken for questioning. If he's innocent, there's no need to worry. All he needs to do is cooperate calmly with us."
"How could Xander possibly be a terrorist?" Serval spits, eyes blazing with fury. "That's the most ridiculous accusation I've ever heard!"
A sinister chuckle cuts through the tense atmosphere. "Is it now?"
Serval whirls around, fixing Cocolia with a withering glare. "Is this your doing?" she demands, voice dripping with venom.
Cocolia meets her gaze evenly, an infuriating smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Serval Landau..." she drawls. "Why am I not surprised?"
Serval's hands curl into fists at her sides, and for a moment, it looks like she's about to unleash a torrent of insults at the Supreme Guardian. But then, I step forward and raise my hand, halting her tirade before it can begin.
"Xander, what—" she starts, but the words die on her lips when she sees my expression.
I level an icy glare at Cocolia, eyes burning with unrestrained wrath. She returns the look with equal animosity, lavender eyes cold and calculating.
"Stand down, suspect!" Bronya's voice rings out, amplified by the cavernous space of the cafe.
Pela's cannons whir to life, barrels spinning as they continue their deadly orbit around Serval and me.
"Pela, lower your cannons!" Lynx shrieks, voice edged with panic. "Serval's in the way!"
Gepard raises a placating hand, expression grim. "We only need to question you and your siblings," he says, addressing me directly. "If there's nothing wrong, you'll be released. There's no need for violence."
I bare my teeth, fury coursing through my veins like molten lava. "Siblings..." I growl, glaring at Gepard. "You'll take them too, you say?"
Gepard holds my gaze, jaw clenched. "Yes," he confirms, voice heavy. "March and Dan will also be taken for questioning alongside you."
Serval's fingers close around my wrist in a vice-like grip. "Xander, listen to me," she pleads, eyes wide with desperation. "I know you're furious, but you need to comply for their sake! I'll make sure to get you the best possible lawyer, we'll get this all sorted out—"
"Serval," I interrupt, voice low and gravelly. I turn to face her fully, expression hard as granite.
She falls silent, searching my face with a mixture of fear and confusion.
I hold her gaze for a long moment before slowly shifting my eyes back to Cocolia. Raising my chin defiantly, I speak the words burning like acid on my tongue.
"They made up their mind about me the moment the Supreme Guardian decided to come here herself. After all, I know about her little secret…"
The rage boils inside me as I stare defiantly at the final boss of Belobog, jaw clenched tight. "The Stellaron's voices must be unbearable. Isn't that right, Cocolia?!"
Her eyes widen at my words, scowl twisting into a murderous expression. "SEIZE HIM!" she screams, voice ringing with fury.
My response is immediate. "DAN HENG! MARCH!" I yell, activating Chronosurge.
The Stellaron within pulses to life while everything around me slows down to a crawl, the world smeared monochrome. I summon my battle attire—the dark coat with light gold triangular patterns that falls to my knees, the midnight vest underneath. My shoulder holsters materialize, the weight of my heavy handguns a comforting presence. Finally, Neuromorphic Armament appears at my hip, the blade's intricate designs catching the light.
I launch myself off the stage, pushing Serval out of Pela's line of fire. I hit the ground in a roll, coming up in a crouch. Gripping my sword tightly, I slice through the weapons of the Silvermane guards in my path, rifles shattering like glass. A swift kick sends Gepard stumbling back, while a well-timed shoulder charge knocks Bronya off her feet.
Just as I close in on Cocolia, Chronosurge's effect ends, and the world snaps back into full color and motion.
Cocolia is quick, her ice spear already raised to meet my sword in a clash of steel and frost. "I'll make sure you die today… demon!" she spits, words dripping with venom.
"Ironic words… coming from the woman who sold her soul to the devil!" I snarl back, rage increasing tenfold.
Cocolia lets out an enraged scream, and a second ice spear materializes behind her, launching itself at me like a javelin. It passes mere inches above her shoulder, forcing me to jerk my head to the side to avoid being impaled.
Using the distraction, she kicks out, boot slamming into my midsection and sending me flying backwards. I barely have time to raise my arms in a cross-block as Gepard, who quickly recovered, slams his fist into me, the sheer strength of the blow propelling me across the cafe.
Dan Heng materializes in my path, catching me mid-flight. March appears behind us, her six-phased ice bow already drawn, arrow nocked and trained on the soldiers.
With a fierce shout, she lets it fly, shattering into a dozen Pom-Pom-size shards. They surge forward, encasing the majority of the guards in ice, freezing their legs to the floor and rendering their guns useless. Bronya tusks in frustration as she finds herself unable to fire her rifle.
"What's the plan, guys?" March 7th calls out, tone laced with urgency.
Dan Heng sweeps his lance in a wide arc, forcing the remaining mobile guards back and creating a buffer zone around us. "Xander! We need to go!"
I finally tear my gaze away from Cocolia, who has recovered her stance, both ice lances aimed squarely at me. I look up to Serval, who stands rooted at the stage, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and confusion. Our gazes lock, and I search those blue depths for some hint of comprehension.
Is this the price you're willing to pay to see me again?
All I see is betrayal.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone