Twilight of the Idols Part 10

[spoiler=Twilight of the Idols Part 19]

[b]Inside the reception area of the National Assembly Hall, Centro Nuovo[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 5:35 PM[/i]

[i]”Has it really been 8 years since that day when I made my decision? The days drag on, but the years pass all too quickly… What would have happened if I had chosen to see things my father’s way, I wonder? Would I be attending this event today, not as a camouflaged subversive on a mission, but as a distinguished guest in good standing with the most powerful men and women in Ridnez? Too many possibilities… too many ‘what if’s’… but it’s really a moot point. To have gone down that path would mean to accept living a contradiction… to say one thing and do another. To drink champagne and laugh at bad jokes for the sake of appearances, while a continent away our people are committing slaughter on an unprecedented scale for our supposed benefit. To accept a superficial appearance of prosperity and civilization while we do our damnedest to ignore closets overflowing with skeletons. I’m afraid you raised me too well, dad. This stinking dishonesty comes to an end tonight…”[/i]

Serena Gerloni glided past attendees of the ISV party congress, making her way across the floor of the spacious reception area. Lucio Andreozzi kept pace, trying to engage Serena in conversation, “Can you believe this? Generals and officers in uniform, black suits and ties, as far as the eye can see!  And this Assembly Hall… it’s [i]way[/i] bigger than it looks from the outside! I wonder when’s the [i]last[/i] time anyone’s used it for anything?”

Serena maintained focus on the situation at hand, “It’s no time to get so excited by new experiences, Lu- ‘Alessandro’… We have a purpose here… but Admiral Bisogno’s instructions were so [i]vague[/i] that I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now.”

“Hm, well, if you recall, he did say to be here by half past 6… maybe we’re just early?,” Lucio proposed. Serena turned her head to shoot Lucio a glare of incredulity and impatience. The message was understood at once. “Right, I’m not helping.”

“This isn’t some trivial [i]thing[/i]… we are truly in the lion’s den here. Either of us could be IDed, if not by any of the party members, then by the guards watching the security cam feed. We can’t afford to dawdle much longer without knowing our objective,” Serena insisted, keeping her voice at a volume below the cacophony of the attendees.

“Perhaps I may be of assistance… [i]Fräulein[/i]?,” said a brown-haired man in a bowtie and carrying a tray with glasses of champagne. By all appearances, he was a mere cocktail waiter, but the use of Xaviet was an immediate tip otherwise. “It’s about time you gave us some clue as to what we’re doing…! What am I supposed to call you here anyway? Certainly not [i]il re rosso[/i],” said Lucio.

The Xaviet spy simply smiled and lightly bowed, “You need not call me anything but a humble servant, ‘Signor D’Amico’… But I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation on account of the rather [i]conspicuous[/i] distress you’ve been broadcasting… Now, you were a professional stage actor, so I mostly refer to ‘your lovely wife’…”

[i]Roter König[/i] nodded in Serena’s direction, “You [i]were[/i] given a clear instruction by our mutual friend… [i]Stay inconspicuous.[/i] Even if I couldn’t overhear, your body language [i]screams[/i], ‘Let me out of here’… How about you follow your compatriot’s lead for a while, hm?”

Serena pressed her lips and folded her arms, “Yeah, well, our ‘mutual friend’ also said we’d be provided with cufflink radios and earpieces for better communication, but the channel’s been dead until now. You know, I bet I’d appear less [i]conspicuously[/i] stressed if maybe we were given a [i]hint[/i] of what’s coming next…”

The SD agent smirked, “Mr. and Mrs. D’Amico, I believe your heads will clear after a light aperitif…” He handed Serena and Lucio champagne glasses from his tray. “The channel will open at 6:50 exactly… and the party congress, as you know, only begins in earnest at 7. Until then… [i]enjoy yourselves![/i] History is, after all, in the making,” [i]König[/i] jested.

Lucio and Serena dumbfoundedly looked at their respective champagne glasses and noticed in each of them a small piece of jewelry, in Lucio’s case a ring with a gemstone and in Serena’s a brass-appearing locket.

“The mystery thickens, eh, ‘my love’…?,” Lucio teased, wearing a corny grin on his face and apparently unconcerned about the situation. Serena raised her finger at Lucio, as if about to say something in indignation, then sighed to herself in resignation. “Y’know, I hate how much you’re [i]enjoying[/i] this farce.”

[b]On the premises of the National Assembly Hall’s 20,000 square-meter outside property, Centro Nuovo[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 5:48 PM[/i]

Outside the monumental rotunda of the Assembly Hall, sturdy men clothed from head to toe in tactical gear strafed the perimeter. Aside from the faint echo of crowds by the entrance, the only sounds that could be heard on the grassy knoll at the rear of the building were the crunching of combat boots over vegetation, the chirping of crickets, and occasional radio noise.

The darkly garbed figures prowled both the areas concealed by shadow and exposed by light, but notably came in two varieties: one team in black gear with blue armbands, emblazoned with the Zendirist Cheveron, and another team in dark blue wearing gray armbands bearing the letters “MP”.

A squad leader for the first team, identifiable as a StateSec tactical police unit, climbed up the side of the hill approaching the Assembly Hall and spoke into his secure channel, “Officer Di Donato, status report on Maintenance Corridor 3, over.” No reply was forthcoming. “Di Donato, do you copy? Over.” Still nothing.

The squad leader approached the backdoor entranceway to Maintenance Corridor 3 while another armed officer in his group strolled out from a darkened crevice in the outer wall of the building, looking around momentarily to reorient himself. The squad leader blew a gasket, “What the hell, Di Donato? Isn’t your receiver working properly?! I asked you for a status update and I walk over here to find you weren’t even covering your patrol area!”

The officer being dressed down muttered beneath his breath, “Sorry, chief… I just needed to take a leak is all.” The squad leader refused this explanation, “Needing to [i]take a leak[/i] is still no excuse for leaving your patrol area without a cover, much less maintaining radio silence when asked to report your status! Get with the program, you’re no rookie! The Hierarch’s own is depending upon you!”

The squad leader began to turn, then halted himself all of a sudden, “And that sore throat is [i]terrible![/i] Go and see a doctor when you’re off-duty.” The squad leader walked back up the hill, and the man he identified as Officer Di Donato took an inaudible sigh of relief.

From a distance no less than 300 yards away, a woman observed the scene play out through the scope of a sniper rifle, crouched over on a patch of grass by a large rock. “Good on you, Konstantin… Just keep your visor flipped down, stay cool as a cucumber, and you can BS your way past most obstacles,” she said into a handheld radio.

The man posing as Di Donato whispered into a similar walkie-talkie fastened to his vest, “Just keep me covered down here, Roth. We’re skating on thin ice, and the Admiral’s men aren’t going to save us if we blow our positions prematurely.”

Abigail Roth removed a strip of bubble gum from a wrapper and began to chew it, moving her scope deftly around the hill and the perimeter of the building. “I’m just letting you know no shot’s accuracy will be 100% guaranteed without a spotter, so don’t get too comfortable either way,” Abigail said, “Hm, I don’t suppose by any chance you’ve have any experience around one of these babies?”

Konstantin slowly stepped away from the brightly lit area by the maintenance corridor entrance, letting the dusk conceal his actions to a degree, “I’ve never handled anything that required more skill or dexterity than a Salcanceacy-manufactured handgun… but I’ve crushed men’s vertebrae with my bare hands. Does that answer your question, Roth?”

Abigail blew her gum into a bubble and let it pop. “Er, somewhat, I guess… ‘Secure the perimeter’, Bisogno says. If I drop one of these jerks and another one picks up on it… Let’s face it, that jackass just wanted to get us out of the way of whatever he’s [i]really[/i] planning.”

Konstantin watched as another StateSec officer rounded a corner into a relatively unmonitored area. “Or maybe the Grand Admiral expects us to perform as well for him without additional guidance as our leader Sforza had apparently done before… How many of them are there?”

Abigail surveyed the environment once over and makes her determination, “Counting the squad leader and excluding [i]you[/i]… and not counting the MPs, there’s seven guarding the rear.”

Konstantin cracked his knuckles and rounded the corner after his quarry, “In just another minute, there will only six… As for you, Roth, either obsess over everything you [i]don’t[/i] understand about this situation, or begin taking proactive measures until we [i]do[/i] understand. I’m making my choice.”

Abigail took the gum from her mouth and squished it against a surface off to the side without looking, eliciting a muffled groan that slightly surprised her. “Oops, sorry, forgot you were over there… No, wait… I’m [i]not[/i] sorry,” Abigail said to the surface in question, the real Officer Di Donato, bound and gagged from the time of her and Konstantin’s arrival. She had nearly stuck the wad of gum into her captive’s eyeball. As it was, the gum remained stuck over Di Donato’s clenched eyelids.

Not sparing the captive another thought, Abigail proceeded to adjust the scopes of her rifle and trailed the squad leader through the grass, “Since we’re committed to [i]doing[/i] this, we might as well do this [i]right[/i]…!” Abigail targeted the squad leader’s head, “Just hold still another second… you won’t feel a thing.”

She let off a shot. Her target’s body fell limp to the ground with hardly a sound. “Five.” Abigail quickly chambered another round and zeroed in on the next officer’s head, taking another shot and landing the target. “Four… Faster, Abigail, it won’t be long before….”

“Chiellini to squad commander, finished clean sweep of sector 12. Awaiting new instructions…,” one of the remaining StateSec grunts reported, “…squad commander…? Do you copy?”

Di Donato’s – or rather Konstantin’s – receiver picked up the communication over the open line. Without delay, Konstantin procured the handheld radio on his person and opened the line to Abigail, “You must relocate to another vantage point [i]now[/i]. They’re going to be onto you in a minute.”

Abigail received the warning and rapidly moved to disassemble her rifle and load the parts into her backpack. She spared a moment to cast an aside glance toward the real Officer Di Donato and mentally assessed her options. [i]”Yeah, real smart decision of us keeping this guy around! Nowhere to hide him that infrared won’t pick up… if he’s freed by the other jokers, then he becomes just another problem to eliminate on the field… Killing him’s no good, even if we did that from the start… not enough time for the body to cool sufficiently not to pop up with heat sensors…”[/i]

After another second of hesitation, Abigail opened her two-way line to Konstantin, “Look, there’s nowhere I can go that they won’t find me if they’re looking, but [i]you’ve[/i] got a problem… When they see [i]this[/i] schlemiel…” Without looking, she elbowed the bound Di Donato in the nose, breaking the cartilage and smashing his head against the boulder behind him, knocking him out. “…it won’t take them two seconds to figure out who [i]you[/i] are. This is gonna get hot, and you’d best prepare for it.” As Abigail signed out, she unholstered her sidearm beneath her jacket and loaded a fresh magazine.

Konstantin sighed in resignation as the end of Abigail’s communication overlapped with a StateSec officer’s cry over their shared channel, “Chiellini to all agents! Squad commander is down! I repeat, squad commander is down! We’re under some form of attack!” Another officer cussed over the line, “Sh*t, Bertolini was right on the money…” A third officer chimed in, “Heisenphyte scum… there’s no question Albertson’s mutts are responsible for this! Just like Director De Marco…” Finally, the fourth took command of the situation, “Enough! We’re [i]here[/i] because Bertolini trusted we were the [i]best[/i]… Turn on infrared, fan out, eyes open for suspicious movements… We’ll flush out whoever this is. Then imagine the reward [i]il dirigente[/i] will have in store for us once we deliver their head in a box.”

Konstantin turns on his microphone and tersely speaks to the officers on the line, trying to conceal his accent with brevity, “I shall inform the military police and [i]il dirigente[/i] about the unfolding situation… and be back with backup.” He then took a gander at the time on his digital watch to gauge the timeframe in which to act. The numbers read 18:30.

Tense minutes pass, with no active radio communication among either of the enemy parties.

[i]”What do I do?! If I make a dash for a different position, maybe get a visual on the Zendies’ positions, I’ll be out in the open… They might even be trying to psyche me out into abandoning cover, then pepper me with ammunition! But if I stay here, it’s just as bad; they’ll just converge on my position… But no, Pappas will alert me… Unless they already suspected him and got to him first… Think, Abigail, think!,”[/i] thought the Heisenian freelance soldier. After clutching her hair with her free hand, wracking her brain for a solution, she came upon a potential solution, her eyes drifting to the unconscious Di Donato. [i]”Maybe it really was a good idea to keep you around, you putz.”[/i]

After another few minutes, one of the StateSec officers catches glimpse of a blob of heat moving at a relatively fast speed toward an oak tree in a miniature park at the corner of the Assembly Hall property, another source of cover. “Potential target visualized heading for the oak tree 600 meters northwest of the marble fountain. Converge on location immediately!,” barks the StateSec officer taking over as impromptu commander. Before long, 4 black-clad forms approach the designated area. One of the StateSec grunts wonders aloud in the squad radio channel, “Why the hell haven’t the military police shown up yet anyway? Didn’t Di Donato leave to get backup?!”

As her enemies approached, Abigail cocked back the hammer on her 9mm semiautomatic pistol and pressed it against the temple of the now conscious but still gagged Di Donato, manipulating her hostage’s body by keeping him in a standing one-armed headlock. “Alright, gentlemen, let’s discuss this like civilized adults, why don’t we?,” she said with a determined, even defiant, tone.

“So you got to Di Donato before he could bring backup, eh? Cunning weasel… there’s no question from that disgusting twinge of an accent that you are Heisenian… which means Farinacci was right after all. One of Albertson’s assassins, are you?,” interrogated the impromptu squad leader.

“You’re in no position to ask questions or hurl insults! If you hadn’t noticed, I quite [i]literally[/i] have your comrade’s life in my hands, and I’m warning you my trigger-finger is getting [i]twitchy![/i],” she threatened. Di Donato frantically yelped and pleaded, only to be muffled out by the gag. “I’m giving you 10 seconds to drop your weapons all at once. Don’t try anything stupid or he dies, I swear it! [i]Ten![/i]”

The Ridnezite operatives exchanged glances, stricken with doubt. [i]”Please just give up… Why couldn’t you just be cowards?,”[/i] Abigail thought to herself. “Nine… eight… seven! I’m not bluffing! I took out your commander; this is just more up close and personal! [i]Six![/i]”

The officers briefly squabbled amongst themselves. “W-what do we do? She's gonna off Di Donato! Amadastra’s veil, man, we visited his hometown for Republic Day celebrations last year… met his family! We can’t [i]really[/i]… what will we tell his-!,” urged one of the remaining four. “[i]Shut up, Rizzieri[/i], I’m thinking! Just keep your sights trained on this Heisenphyte b*tch!,” the de facto leader shouted.

Abigail continued the countdown, “Five… four!” Internally though, she came to a different decision, [i]”They’re reluctant, but they were chosen for a reason, I suppose. Either they’ll let me finish the countdown and the shooting will start then… Four guys with biosignature-locked assault rifles against me with my sidearm lugging a backpack with rifle parts, not good… or they’ll beat me to the punch and blow away their buddy in the process. Either way, sucks for me. So…”[/i]

Before completing the countdown, Abigail wildly thrust her gun arm forward and released 4 rounds in quick succession, taking out 2 of the 4 Zendirist officers. Not a second later, the 2 surviving gunmen let out a flurry of high-powered return fire, but Abigail had already begun to fall to the ground behind Di Donato, leaving him to absorb the hail of gunfire. As she fell, Abigail let off another 3 rounds, eliminating one of the surviving officers. The last remaining hostile, Rizzieri, was shocked into indecision as his mind fully processed what was happening around him, “Di Donato?! By the Lady of the Waves…”

Abigail rose from the ground and exploited Rizzieri’s moment of confusion to line him up with her pistol at point-blank range. “Just give it up and [i]slowly[/i] drop the rifle! Was this really [i]worth[/i] it?,” she posed. She swore she could have heard a faint but indistinct vocalization from the stunned officer, but as his upper body musculature began to twitch the wrong way, she had to make a split-second choice. Abigail let off an 8th round from her handgun, blowing Rizzieri’s brains all over the cobblestone pathway leading up to the oak tree. Abigail took a moment to look at the bloodied bodies surrounding her, not outwardly betraying hint of emotion. But inwardly, the visceral imagery of her own handiwork reminded her too much of the Aster general strike, [i]”Why is it so much easier from behind a scope… when you don’t have to hear and see the mess up close? Axon rest their souls…”[/i]

Abigail, still a soldier at heart, put it out of her mind and concentrated on the mission. Walking away from the scene to resume her original vantage point, Abigail radioed the undercover Konstantin, “Well, I hope Bisogno’s happy… It’s 7:00. The perimeter is now secure, and it didn’t involve the MPs either… Bisogno can keep his precious [i]plausible deniability[/i] for whatever happens next… But if he doesn’t stay [i]fully[/i] above board on this, he won’t have long to enjoy it, I’ll make sure of [i]that[/i]. How are things on your end [i]inside[/i] the rotunda?”

Konstantin growled at a low volume into his end of the line, “Well… it’s complicated. Let’s rendezvous back at where we first broke off… Sit tight.”

[b]Inside the National Assembly Hall rotunda, Centro Nuovo[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 6:00 PM[/i]

Vincenzo Borrelli walked through the reception area with a certain awkward reticence. He kept his fist clenched tight in the pocket of his dinner jacket to control his tremors and conceal them from his ISV cohorts. Borrelli continued to see and hear the specter of Andreas Bombardone, [i]”Vincenzo, my dearest and most loyal friend… If you are to become the Chief of the New State, then you must act the part with gusto! You’re projecting uncertainty and submissiveness by your posture… That crafty fox Bisogno will detect your weakness and eat you alive for it! Stand up straight, square up your shoulders… remind yourself that the entire nation is looking for you to take it in your grip, not because they have some expectation of you that you will fall short of… but because they already know you have the inner potential to win for them the ultimate victory!”[/i]

Borrelli took his hands out of his pockets, no longer trembling, and straightened his back. Already he appeared to virtually gain an entire extra foot in height. Without calling for attention, Borrelli automatically seemed to command it by his improved stature alone. Party members in Borrelli’s midst instantly took notice of his presence, as if he had not been in the room a moment ago and now he was.

Bombardone spoke more into Borrelli’s mind, with a certain clarity that made it seem to Borrelli that he was physically standing behind him and speaking directly into his ear. [i]”Already your peons can sense they are in the presence of greatness, once you simply cease handicapping yourself with your anxieties… Now close your eyes and imagine for a second… imagine a people hundreds of millions strong, who have been subjected to the most horrid suffering imaginable among civilized nations… that is to say, among men and not beasts… deceived and persecuted by foreign interests and internal foreigners alike… looking to a savior, a man who will mold their suffering into power… and sharpen their loathing into a spearhead of will. Channel the feelings, the pain of that victimized people… and be the savior they’ve been praying for!”[/i]

Borrelli opened his eyes, and to his unexpressed surprise, he found as the various black-tie-clad Zendirist party men and women backed up in a circle around him, all offering him the Consine salute in unison. Bombardone had one last instruction, [i]”You know what to do, o great master of the people. Validate their faith.”[/i]

Borrelli curled his arm in an upwards arc, accepting the symbolic tribute of his ideological brethren. [i]”This is the privilege… and the responsibility… of all great men. The little people throw themselves at their superiors, because they must serve some purpose that proves their lives have value in the end… they need to be made part of something bigger than themselves. In our infinite compassion, that value… that sense of purpose… is precisely what we mean to give them. And in a roundabout way, they give us our value and our purpose… for would a great man be great if no one chose to be ruled by him?”[/i]

Serena and Lucio observed this scene from a short distance away, anonymous within the crowd. “Is- is that really who I think it is?,” stuttered Lucio.

“Vincenzo Borrelli, in the flesh… this isn’t good. We’ve got to get some more space before he spots me…,” urged Serena. Lucio whispered a question to Serena, “Why would [i]he[/i] know what [i]you[/i] look like? He probably doesn’t know [i]me[/i] from-“

Serena reminded Lucio, “Number one, I [i]knew[/i] all these people since I was a child… and they sure as hell know who I am, and who I absconded to be [i]with[/i]… Number two, [i]both[/i] of us are ‘Signor and Signora D’Amico’ here… You want a situation where Borrelli or someone else asks for an introduction? What are you going to tell him?”

Borrelli walked through a parting ocean of Zendirist true believers to reach an automated 3-layer-thick osmium-steel door mechanism, regulated by a biometric lock feature. Borrelli hit a few buttons into a narrow console protruding slightly from an otherwise neoclassical-style support pillar, causing sections of the wall next to the osmium door to slide away to reveal retinal and fingerprint scanners. Borrelli placed his hand on the latter and aligned his eye with the former. A moment later, an electronically modulated, deep male voice boomed from the wall, announcing, “Identity Confirmed: Vincenzo Borrelli – Welcome to the Council of Zendirism.”

The 3 sheets of osmium steel then gradually peeled back to permit the entrance of Borrelli into a darkened antechamber, after which the door mechanism reengaged and electromagnetically locked in place. Once the door mechanism locked, the antechamber lit up, allowing Borrelli to punch in a 6-digit passcode to enter yet another area beyond. In this next room was a large circular table marked in the center with the Zendirist cheveron – the very symbol of the New State – surrounded by security monitors relaying feeds from all over the building and other miscellaneous computer equipment, all saturated by dim blue LED lighting.

Borrelli entered the meeting room of the Council of Zendirism, effectively a war room for all intents and purposes, with a newfound vitality in his stride. “Comrades… we have a problem, I’m afraid,” he warned, “The Admiral, despite all our endeavors to outmaneuver and outwit him, has a distressingly good hand to play tonight… in just an hour’s time. But we need to dedicate resources to discovering [i]how it is[/i] this lone, aging reactionary has so much [i]apparent[/i] covert assistance.”

The only other three members present in the war room, seated in a circle around the table, were unlikely candidates perhaps: Stefano Felici of the Ridnez All-Labor Guild, Venceslao Insigne of the Directorate of Social Policy, and Vito Bertolini of the Directorate of State Security. “Bertolini, I believe that this is your territory… Theorize.”

Bertolini pivoted his chair to face Borrelli, “Well, there is no need to concoct [i]theories[/i] from my understanding of the events… It was you, [i]dirigente[/i], who had the original insight that Admiral Bisogno and this Sforza kid were in league to sabotage government initiatives… such as the preparations going towards Bisogno’s Vortes Program, the bombing of the Government Archives Complex, and the money train heist in Fulmine Rosso just this summer… Using a bit of logical deduction, isn’t the obvious conclusion that the Ocelotist Network is enabling Bisogno’s ambitions?”

Borrelli stroked his beard and considered Bertolini’s words for a moment, “…No. No, it [i]doesn’t[/i] check out. We had the Sforza lad in [i]our[/i] custody intermittently, up until very recently. You recall I asked you to prep the Retromnemon… to break down his psychological barriers and plug in new ones in their place. What did he say during his last hypnosis session?”

“Hmph… The young man had amazing resistance… it was [i]astonishingly[/i] difficult to reprogram him to react our subliminal triggers in the appropriate manner. But now that you mention it… He did tell us [i]some[/i] things inconsistent with the working theory…,” Bertolini admitted.

Borrelli pressed, “Such as…?”

“…Well, why don’t we review the footage together? The StateSec Database of Records is accessible from the mainframe here…,” Bertolini suggested, rising to enter a few prompts into the master computer mounted against the wall. Many pinpoint rays of blue laser-light emitted from the corners of the war room, converging on the center above the Council of Zendirism’s round table. The result was a 3-dimensional holographic reconstruction of an interrogation session with Giovanni Sforza, specifically a representation of Sforza strapped against an uncomfortable-looking iron table. “This scene originally happened 5 days ago… the day following Sforza’s latest arrest by First Lieutenant Benedetta at the Fulmine Rosso waterfront.”

The room then goes silent as Borrelli and his cohorts direct their attention to the hologram and listen to the recorded voices playing from the wall speakers. The recording of Bertolini was audible first, “This is… really rather [i]inconvenient[/i] for us, Signor Sforza. The Directorate of State Security is unused to the embarrassment of [i]dealing[/i] with fugitives… And yet here you are, already with an arrest record that dwarfs your employment history, I’d bet… Actually, [i]have[/i] you ever been gainfully employed? I’d bet not…”

Sforza speaks next, “Look, we [i]both[/i] know that you’d already pored over every damned aspect of my file before you even [i]thought[/i] of entering this room with me today… And I [i]also[/i] know that you’re just grilling me in the belief that you’ll wear down my resistance with [i]shame[/i], but I have no shame for the life I’ve lived… or the things I’ve done. Look in the mirror once in a while and see if you can say the same, huh?”

Bertolini enters the frame of the holographic recording, leaning against the table next to the restrained Sforza and lightly chuckles, “Come now… I’ll admit, I [i]have[/i] looked at your file. Director Tetra and his predecessor found you a quite fascinating case study, and I will say that I do as well… But that’s not why we’re [i]really[/i] here, I’m afraid… I’ll ask nicely… [i]once[/i]. Why did you choose to hit the money train at Conti University Station at 10 AM on July 9 this year?”

Sforza gritted his teeth, “Haven’t you heard? Lowlife criminals got to eat too…”

Bertolini scoffed beneath his breath, “Wrong answer, pup. You [i]know[/i] what we’ll [i]do[/i] to you if you stay clammed up, right? I don’t quite have Director Tetra’s technical expertise with the machinery… so there’s no guarantee I won't blast your IQ to the level of an asparagus… you know, [i]on accident[/i]… Were you working with Grand Admiral Giulio Bisogno to coordinate the heist…?”

Sforza simply smiled. After a few tense seconds, he broke out uncontrollably in tears and laughter.

Bertolini seemed to lighten up as well, wearing not a look of consternation or offense, but a wry smile in response. “Hmph, so you think what I just told you is [i]funny[/i], do you? You think we’re [i]joking?[/i]”

If Sforza’s head weren’t strapped down and had full range of motion, he’d shake it from side to side, but instead gave his reply in words. “No… What’s funny is that, right after pointing out I was full of [i]bullsh*t[/i] when I said I had no regrets… you try to use the threat of [i]torture[/i] to make me compromise my ethics… my [i]soul[/i]. If a second chance at a loving family and a normal life didn’t persuade me to buy into your system years ago, did you really think I’d do myself the disgrace of bending to you [i]now[/i]…?”

“To be honest, no… But as [i]il dirigente[/i] seems to have taken a liking to you for whatever reason, I thought I’d give you a chance… How silly of me,” Bertolini answered. As Bertolini snapped his fingers, a pair of technicians dragged an apparatus vaguely resembling a lamp over Sforza’s head, adjusted some settings, and flipped a switch. For the first second or two, there was no reaction at all, but then all of a sudden, Sforza began to shriek with almost inhuman intensity, like a dog or some such animal being cooked alive over a spit, as his body instantly went into convulsions.

Borrelli and the other two Zendirists had an immediate and visceral reaction, unaccustomed to seeing the actions of the StateSec Directorate for themselves. Borrelli yelled over the recorded shrieking in disgust, “Bertolini… Turn it off! [i]Turn it off now![/i]”

Bertolini hit a button on the computer, freezing the hologram in place and cutting the volume. Borrelli placed his hand on his forehead and looked away in distress, before giving his next order. “Skip to the [i]relevant[/i] part, will you, please?”

Bertolini cleared his throat in palpable unease, then hit another button on the console, causing the hologram to dissipate and reform into another scene, showing Sforza now strapped to a chair and seated across from a sitting Bertolini. Sforza, as depicted by the hologram, was visibly exhausted and delirious. The recording picked up with another button tap as Bertolini’s past self speaks first, “Alright, let’s try this again… Have you been colluding with Grand Admiral Giulio Bisogno to harm Zendirist projects?”

Sforza panted for several seconds, then spat out in defiance, “[i]huff huff[/i]… F*ck… you…”

Bertolini followed up by enunciating a seemingly nonsensical string of syllables, “Shem-ha-me-phor-ash.” Sforza reacted at once as if struck by lightning, his eyeballs popping out of their sockets and retching from his esophagus. Then, he went quiet and slowly, almost robotically held his head up high. There was no further indication of tiredness or distress; his eyelids remained wide open and his pupils were noticeably dilated.

“Answer the question, Sforza. Are you working with Bisogno or not?,” said Bertolini.

After his lip quivered for several moments, Sforza obliged his interrogator with a monotone voice, “Y-yes… I am.”

Bertolini smiled from ear to ear and pressed further, “Good, you’ve done very well, Sforza… How did you encounter Bisogno in the first place?”

“H-he… kidnapped me from a prison cell… after StateSec arrested me… for smuggling illegal car parts…,” Sforza said.

“Hm, and what’s Bisogno want out of this? What’s his motive?,” Bertolini asked.

“B... Bisogno wants me to sabotage the plan drafted by the government… to depopulate Usea… and to destroy Ridnez itself if ever needed to prevent an enemy occupation,” Sforza replied.

“Are your… comrades-in-arms enlisted in this endeavor at all? Are they involved…?,” said Bertolini.

“Yes,” came the reply. “Hm… Does the Ocelot herself know about your relationship with Bisogno?,” Bertolini followed up. After a moment of frozen silence, Sforza answered again, “…No.”

“Do you know what the significance is of the item you stole on the train?,” asked Bertolini. “I… only know that it will end the war,” said Sforza. “…Was the deceased Director Gregorio De Marco part of this conspiracy in any way?,” came Bertolini’s query. Sforza stayed silent a few seconds more before the response came, “…I don’t know.”

“Very well, you will forget everything related to this interview… everything that happened since you entered this very room… once I say the phrase. It will be a blank against the escutcheon of your conscious mind… Shemhamephorash,” said Bertolini. At the speaking of the phrase, Sforza shook slightly and simply shut down, totally unconscious. That moment, Bertolini – in the present moment – chooses to hit a button on the master computer dispelling the hologram and closing the recording.

Borrelli cradles his chin in his hand, arms folded, and paces around the war room. “His comrades-in-arms are assisting Bisogno, but the Ocelot doesn’t know of their relationship… [i]And[/i] the lad had no awareness of the [i]true[/i] importance of the Keys of Nights… [i]why[/i] we are truly after them… and why Bisogno ordered him to keep them from their rightful possessors. Don’t you see? The Admiral isn’t really working [i]with[/i] the Ocelotists; he manipulated [i]Sforza[/i] into using their network and resources to run his [i]own[/i] schemes… But that still leaves questions… [i]Who[/i] did he enlist to retrieve the boy from his place of incarceration? [i]How[/i] did his people know we were bringing Sforza to that derelict office building on Piazza Silvano last night?”

“You ask good questions, [i]dirigente[/i]… Two of my men, enhanced with Ouroboros B, were found [i]very[/i] dead in that building this morning… One of them, his skull was burst with an armor-piercing round… The other, died of cardiac arrest. I don’t know [i]how[/i] they did it… Who [i]else[/i] knew that Sforza had been prepped for a ‘special’ interrogation session there, other than us and the two dead men? None I can think of…,” Bertolini wondered aloud.

Borrelli stood still for around a minute, then as a distinct possibility came to his mind. His stolid expression blanched with disbelief, yet he could not contain his shock. “The… [i]only[/i] other living, breathing human who [i]should[/i] have known… was my valet… [i]Giovanni Ossola[/i]…”

Bertolini rotated idly around in his swivel chair, “Hmm, and you [i]suppose[/i] this Ossola has the [i]capability[/i] to betray the New State? Let’s pull up his record, why don’t we?” He brought up Ossola’s profile from the StateSec database with a few keystrokes, as a holographic reproduction of the man’s head flashed above the table. “Hm, well, well… Wouldn’t you believe that he was spotted working a [i]side gig[/i]… driving a truck for the Supremo Alto Freight Company, a subsidiary of Oberto Durable Goods and Exports, at the time of the Ridnez Civil War. His assignment, completed just prior to the loss of the northwest province… was a shipment from a Magnifico suburb to one just outside of Fulmine Rosso… no log was submitted, but the existing photographic evidence in Ossola’s file places this event on the same night that Director Del Tuono perished at the hands of… a certain rather [i]infamous[/i] terrorist… [i]in[/i] Fulmine Rosso.” 

Borrelli scowled in contempt. “He… He [i]never[/i] disclosed any additional occupation as a [i]truck driver[/i] to me… For the last 20 years, he’s been my valet… and to my knowledge, only my valet! He… When the Shahi Air Force [i]bombed[/i] Fulmine Rosso a week ago, Giovanni got me to [i]safety[/i]…”

“Hm, fascinating… And where [i]were[/i] you at the time again, [i]dirigente[/i]?,” queried Bertolini, though already knowing the answer.

“I was… on the top floor. My executive suite…,” Borrelli recalled.

“And Ossola managed to get to you within… what, minutes? While the city was being destroyed… during a bombing run in which General Ridnez Petrochemical was a strategic civilian target. Very convenient… very [i]coincidental[/i]…,” Bertolini prodded.

“By Maris, I can’t believe… Giovanni… [i]my[/i] Giovanni…,” Borrelli muttered to himself, processing the epiphany. “T-this still doesn’t answer the initial question. The Admiral didn’t use my [i]chauffeur[/i] in order to recruit the Sforza lad or to kill two Ouroboros B-enhanced agents… And if the Ocelot herself isn’t involved, then I doubt extensive Ocelotist support could be responsible either.”

“No… but if we ask Ossola ‘nicely’… maybe he’ll tell us,” Bertolini suggested.

Borrelli squinted his eyes with determination. “Do it.”

[b]Maintenance Corridor 3[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 6:30 PM[/i]

Konstantin Pappas dragged his feet through the maintenance corridor providing a backdoor entrance to the Assembly Hall, still garbed in the tactical gear of Officer Di Donato. At the end of the corridor, the burly Ziconean opened a door to access the interior spaces. To Konstantin’s bemusement, the corridor led ultimately to a kitchen, where a team of gourmet chefs were hard at work preparing a three-meal course for the opening of the party congress.

All eyes in the room fixed upon the anonymous muscular man in black. Konstantin took quick action to justify his presence, once more using a scratchy-sounding voice and short words and phrases to disguise his accent, “Don’t be alarmed. Reporting to the director.” That was all they needed to hear, and from then on it was back to work.

[i]”If Roth is so concerned about treachery from the Grand Admiral, then it behooves me at least to monitor his behavior. If there is foul play or any hint of it… then I’ll have the Admiral’s head before Roth does. A knight of Zicona is not played for a fool!,”[/i] Konstantin reflected.

Konstantin emerged into a hallway abutting the kitchen area, bypassing the conversing Renard and Sofia D’Este. “I swear that it doesn’t make any sense… we both saw the D’Amicos just last night. We’ve scoured the reception area three times over, and no sight of them. And after Alessandro seemed so adamant about supporting Admiral Bisogno as the new party leader…,” remarked Sofia. “Hmph, you have a point. I think Alessandro’s rationale is [i]idiocy[/i], pure and simple… but it’s concerning that we’ve not been able to locate him… yet according to the vetting staff, they [i]should[/i] have arrived…”

[i]”Damn, it seems that the Zendirist minister we abducted had friends… people who would notice if he wasn’t around… that might prove… problematic in the long run of affairs,”[/i] thought Konstantin. Afterwards, he stumbled into the greater reception area, initially overwhelmed by the large number of the attendees and the vibrancy of the social gathering. [i]”I’m not sure… what I expected. But this… casual frivolity… was certainly not it. Hypocrites… sinners and pagans all. May Axon smite them as they richly deserve.”[/i]

Konstantin’s vision scanned the room once over with clarity, and a few notable individuals stuck out to him from within the crowd. First Konstantin’s eyes locked onto the sight of Vincenzo Borrelli’s departure from the Council of Zendirism’s war room, whereupon he was handed a glass of champagne by a cocktail waiter. Next, a few minutes later, Konstantin observed Admiral Bisogno’s dignified entrance to the reception area, saluted by a gathering of navy men and marines in the service, no doubt many of similar aristocratic stock. Konstantin witnessed as the cocktail waiter crept up next to Bisogno and whispered something into his ear, whereupon the two began to take a stroll together down an adjacent hall.

Konstantin began to follow Bisogno and [i]Roter König[/i] down the hallway at a distance, picking up the pace after they round the bend. Konstantin sneaked up to the corner, hugging the wall and rounding the bend to determine where Bisogno and his Xaviet ally went. The Ziconean mobster heard murmurs of their discussion in an out-of-the-way cocktail room, creeping up to listen better without revealing himself.

“Did Lieutenant Schmidt ever tell you about the day, around a week after Bombardone’s demise, when I took him to see one of the greatest Ridnezite operas, [i]Tito Secondo[/i]? It was a grand performance, truly,” Bisogno reminisced.

[i]König[/i] maintained his air of politeness, “Ah, I’m afraid it must have slipped the Lieutenant’s mind… but pray tell, why think back on the occasion now, while there are much bigger concerns ahead?”

“[i]Tito Secondo[/i] may be a grandiose drama, but it is also a morality play. It illustrates the ultimate fate of [i]all those[/i] who seek to go against the will of the spirits who govern the natural world… it reminds the once-pious Ridnezite people of a time when they [i]feared[/i] the elements… and feared the world’s vengeance for adopting strange ways, at variance with the natural order of things. The eponymous tyrant fell to divine wrath. Arguably, so too did Bombardone. At last, this grotesque charade shall be put to an end… all these [i]freaks[/i] and whoever else upholds the moral corruption of the modern world will be [i]silenced[/i]… or put to the sword, starting with the incapable cripple Borrelli… that utter basketcase,” Bisogno ranted.

The Xaviet remained impassive, ignoring Bisogno’s mounting instability. “And sure enough, with the Kaizer and the Gouvernmentgebau’s blessing, Ridnez will be a monarchy once again… an [i]allied[/i] monarchy! But that still leaves the question of how you mean to accommodate your [i]co-conspirators[/i] to this dramatic [i]counter-revolution[/i] you have planned. You made your case… and the Ocelotists’ loyalty is to the Republic… the [i]First[/i] Republic… at least in some form.”

The Admiral poured out a drink for himself, groaned, and downed it in one go. “I bore my heart… my soul… to those ingrates. Each of them would be dead by now, in Sforza’s case [i]several[/i] times over, if not for [i]my[/i] generosity… as befits the rank of nobility… [i]noblesse oblige[/i]. We must show concern for our social and moral inferiors, after all… to the degree that they are happy and willing to accept their place.”

“And… if these exceptional young revolutionaries are [i]not[/i] willing to accept their place in a [i]monarchical[/i] Ridnezite order… or a [i]Xaviet-led[/i] global order?,” the Xaviet spy insinuated.

Bisogno sat down in a chair, steepled his fingers, and seemed to inwardly reflect before formulating his response, “I-I suppose… in that case I’ll have to…”

Just then, Konstantin’s eavesdropping attempt was interfered with by an urgent transmission on the StateSec shared channel by Vito Bertolini. “Attention, all operatives. [i]Il dirigente[/i] has an assignment for you which takes utmost precedence. You may select one of you to temporarily leave his patrol area to accomplish this task. You are to find [i]il dirigente[/i]’s chauffeur Giovanni Ossola and [i]bring him[/i] to Emergency Exit 17. I will be waiting to receive him for a… [i]quick[/i] interrogation. Further orders pending. Over.”

[i]”In the name of Axon, what is this? The master of those dolts outside wants Borrelli’s valet to be captured for some reason…? I wonder if it’s worth complying with that man’s directive simply to secure more intel for the benefit of our cell?,”[/i] Konstantin speculated. After a few seconds, he arrived at his conclusion. [i]“If this valet is not brought before Borrelli’s lackey soon, it will raise suspicions. Therefore, the responsibility is mine to see this act through.”[/i]

Several minutes later, Konstantin approached a limousine in the parking lot, by far the most ostentatious automobile on the Assembly Hall grounds. Sitting inside with the window rolled down, listening to some classical music on the radio, was none other than the intended target. “Excuse me… Could you please tell me if you go by the name of ‘Giovanni Ossola’?,” asked the disguised Konstantin.

Ossola turned his head and began to sputter slightly, “Er, ahem… Y-yes, Giovanni Ossola, that’s m-“ The hapless valet didn’t get any further before Konstantin knocked Ossola out of his wits with a hammer-like blow to the jaw, then dragged him out of the limo and slung him over his shoulder to bring to the designated rendezvous point with Bertolini.

[b]Outside of Emergency Exit 17[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 6:50 PM[/i]

The disguised Konstantin hauled Ossola’s unconscious body at Bertolini’s feet, waiting by an obscure corner of the building. [i]”So this must have been the man barking orders over the channel… clearly unaware that the rest of his detail has been eliminated,”[/i] Konstantin thought.

Bertolini spoke brusquely, “What’s your name, officer?”

Konstantin masked his voice in the reply, “Uh… Officer Di Donato… sir!”

“Wake this sack of crap up, why don’t you, Di Donato? There simply isn’t the [i]time[/i] to do this properly,” Bertolini insisted.

Konstantin looked between Bertolini and Ossola’s crumpled body on the ground a couple times. Bertolini made a subtle nodding motion with his head as if to emphasize his orders. Konstantin gave a swift kick to Ossola’s gut, giving the unfortunate chauffeur a rather rude awakening.

“Evening, Ossola… Surely you know what this is about, yes? Don’t even [i]try[/i] playing dumb… In 30 minutes, your employer goes before the 54th Party Congress of the Integral Social Vanguard and receives the blessing of the nation as its one [i]true[/i] leader. You [i]will[/i] tell me what you know about Bisogno and his designs [i]now[/i]… or I am afraid to inform you it is my prerogative as [i]acting[/i] Director of State Security to extinguish you, right here, right now,” explained Bertolini.

[i]”This valet-driver has some sort of association with the Admiral…? Then there were more moving pieces to this subterfuge than we dared suspect… But still… my only concern, even moreso than my chosen allies in this struggle… is what will become of my brethren, my fellow sons and daughters of Axon-blessed Zicona… If the Admiral is sincere about saving them… I would do anything,”[/i] Konstantin agonized.

Ossola desperately tried to rise to his feet, only for Bertolini to step on his shoulder and force him back to the ground. “I didn’t say that you could stand up! What are we dealing with here… what are we to expect?”

“P-please… you don’t get- You don’t understand. I worked for Signor Borrelli for decades… [i]No one else[/i] knows him better. No one still living anyway… The things he and I have shared… memories, hopes, feelings, stories about our families… I couldn’t bear it… to see him continue to [i]destroy[/i] himself like this,” Ossola pleaded.

Bertolini sighed disinterestedly, “[i]sigh[/i] Di Donato, please let our acquaintance know that we are [i]not[/i] interested in excuses or explanations…”

Konstantin delivered a drop kick to Ossola’s jaw, knocking several of his teeth out and bloodying his mouth and lip.

Bertolini knelt over Ossola’s quietly sobbing form, his face smashed past recognition. The StateSec functionary pulled a silenced handgun from his jacket and took Ossola by the collar. “I’ll not ask again, you putrid dingleberry… What’s Bisogno’s ace-in-the-hole…? What’s he going to do when Borrelli takes the stage?!“

Konstantin remained still as granite but internally a conflict raged, [i]”Ossola might indeed have the relevant information in hand… But then what? Will he expose my fellow Ocelotists? Will he doom Bisogno’s whole endeavor? What will happen to my brother Ziconeans then? And most of all… How long can I continue this charade? Regardless of whether I act or refuse to act…”[/i]

“To kill a man before giving him a chance to defend himself… how ignoble and base,” Konstantin said in his true voice. Bertolini reflexively turned his head upright to look, startled by the comment, as the butt of Konstantin’s assault rifle smashed into Bertolini’s face, knocking him unconscious. Bertolini’s body collapsed on top of Ossola, but Konstantin immediately grabbed Bertolini by the collar and tossed him aside without effort, leaving him in a separate heap on the ground. 

Ossola whimpered helplessly as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. “You’re welcome… even though you [i]likely[/i] do not [i]deserve[/i] to survive…,” Konstantin contemptuously remarks, “Do not attempt to run… or I will gladly [i]relieve[/i] you of the use of your legs.”

Ossola weakly pushed himself onto all fours, his head ringing and throbbing all the while, “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I just tried to…” No more words escaped his lips; Giovanni Ossola fainted from the stress and the beating inflicted upon him.

He then received a message from Abigail over his walkie-talkie. “Well, I hope Bisogno’s happy… It’s 7:00. The perimeter is now secure, and it didn’t involve the MPs either… Bisogno can keep his precious [i]plausible deniability[/i] for whatever happens next… But if he doesn’t stay [i]fully[/i] above board on this, he won’t have long to enjoy it, I’ll make sure of [i]that[/i]. How are things on your end [i]inside[/i] the rotunda?”

Konstantin gave his reply, “Well… it’s complicated. Let’s rendezvous back at where we first broke off… Sit tight.”

[b]Inside the National Assembly Legislative Chamber, Centro Nuovo[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 6:40 PM[/i]

Vincenzo Borrelli stood at the aged mahogany podium, poring over a couple dozen pages of a script. He gazed out over the hundreds of empty seats, arranged in a semicircular pattern around the podium at center. In the front row, closest to the podium, were those seats reserved for the members of the Council of Zendirism. Some of the designated CoZ members were permitted to enter and take their places, such as Felici and Insigne. Renard D'Este had just entered the room, while Generals Cascagni and Nicodemo were represented by military envoys.

“The time is fast coming upon us… the beginning of our final and greatest trial. No matter what happens… or what scheme the accursed Admiral means to hatch… I must say it has been… fulfilling… to have gotten this far with your support,” Borrelli says.

“The future of Ridnez – and her teeming millions of hopeful citizens – depends upon the commitment of her Vanguard to clear the path ahead for it, and the commitment of the Vanguard may be no [i]lesser[/i] than that of our Chief… Many of us remember the rapine and plunder of the [i]old[/i] Ridnez… and we would sooner die in the Hierarch’s name – and in [i]your[/i] name by proxy – than to [i]allow[/i] things to go back to the way they were,” Insigne affirmed.

[i]”I remember the day when the sniveling servants of the First Republic convened their last in these halls – dishonoring the supreme Amalfian ideal with the Heisenian money stuffed into their deep pockets. The very institutions of the Republic were irreparably fouled by their presence… which is why it was so necessary to start over again… a New State indeed,”[/i] remarked the Bombardone that existed only in Borrelli’s mind.

Borrelli clenched his hands into fists, crushing the printed-out script between his fingers, “I [i]won’t[/i] fail you, Andreas… [i]I won’t![/i] You’ll see… they’ll [i]all[/i] see what I’m capable of soon enough. Rest easy, old friend. Your glorious dream will be made reality, no matter the cost.”

D’Este took his seat and interrupted Borrelli’s thoughts, “There’s something [i]very[/i] off about this entire convention… Sofia and I [i]just[/i] had dinner with the D’Amicos last night. We had heated disagreements about the desired outcome of today’s congress… But that’s irrelevant. Alessandro simply is not [i]here[/i]… Nothing would have caused him to miss this event… I don’t believe it. [i]Everything[/i] – our lives, our families, our Zendirist social ideology – all depend on it!”

Borrelli looks aside, then returns to address D’Este’s concern, “Hm, this is… How do I put it? This would be all much [i]easier[/i] to elucidate if Interim Director Bertolini were here right now…”

Felici slammed his open palm against his desk to take the men’s attention, “Speaking of Bertolini, he’s supposed to be in attendance tonight on behalf of the [i]indisposed[/i] Director Tetra… We [i]both[/i] discussed sensitive matters with him less than an hour ago… and the congress is about to open to the Strato Uno and Strato Due members in a couple of minutes. Director D’Este is right… Something [i]is[/i] wrong.”

Borrelli frowned in consternation and whispered to himself, “Damn you, Bisogno… Tetra should have had you killed when he had the chance. But still… not [i]totally[/i] unexpected… That young man had better not fail me now.”

Felici rose from his seat in a furor. “What?! You mean to tell me that the Admiral has been [i]picking[/i] us off at our own congress… And you [i]know[/i] this and have chosen to [i]allow[/i] him to ‘guard’ the proceedings with military police answerable only to [i]him[/i] right now?! Don’t you see he has us just where he wants us?! [i]He’s going to send the MPs in through those doors any moment, and then he’s going to kill us all![/i]”

“Comrade Felici, your concern is duly noted, but there is something more going on here… A creature of duty and tradition like Bisogno wouldn’t act so brazenly… it would be out-of-character… No, he’s found a loophole in his own bankrupt code of ethics… by recruiting [i]disreputable outsiders[/i]… Ocelotists… to do his dirty work for him. But StateSec has prepared for [i]every[/i] contingency… The best way to proceed is… simply to take it all naturally as it comes. We’ve [i]anticipated[/i] all the variables. If Bisogno presses a confrontation… it will be to his [i]everlasting[/i] regret,” Borrelli reassured.

[b]Inside the reception area of the National Assembly Hall, Centro Nuovo[/b]

[i]October 6, 2023, 6:50 PM[/i]

“Well, ‘dearest love’, only 10 minutes left, so we should begin to get a clue of our objective soon,” Lucio noted.

As if on cue, an low-pitched, electronically modulated voice resounded through the reception area as the lights suddenly dimmed. “Greetings, members of the Integral Social Vanguard, and welcome to the 54th Biannual Party Congress… Members holding Strato Uno rank, please organize into single-file lines and prepare to enter the chamber by Entrance Corridor A… Members holding Strato Due rank, please organize into single-file lines and prepare to enter the chamber through Entrance Corridor B… in 10 minutes. Thank you for your attention.”

Serena nervously folded her arms. “Well… Red King still hasn’t given us instructions. it seems like there’s only one thing to do at this point… Play along until somebody gets wise…” She then took in her hand the locket which the Xaviet spy had given to her. “I still can only guess at the purpose of this thing… Hopefully it doesn’t contain a poison dart or something like that in…”

Serena’s discussion was broken up by the intrusion of a familiar face. “So there you are… I had been [i]warned[/i] by Bertolini that you would [i]probably[/i] be here tonight…” Serena’s blood froze in her veins as she registered the voice, made weary by the passage of years, but to Serena’s ears, still recognizable as ever. She turned around in a startled jerky motion, almost losing her balance with her high heels.

Lucio surmised at once, “Serena… This isn’t… Is he? He [i]is[/i], by Cothrestrus!”

The man who stood before them was advanced in years, with graying brunette hair, and clean-shaven, slightly plump in the face. He wore the standard Zendirist party uniform, a black military-inspired uniform with a blue armband. “Even after all these years… you still look great, kid. I can’t tell you… how long I’ve waited for this moment… how much I’ve dreamed of just being able to see your face one last time… how long I’ve spent not knowing whether you were alive or dead… whether you had gotten… [i]used[/i] by those… those… [i]people[/i]…”

Serena’s lips quivered subtlely, her mouth agape. Then, hesitantly, delicately, she uttered a single stifled word – a word she had come much to attach such wildly mixed feelings to – a word conveying such contradictory and complex thoughts all at once.

“… [i]F-father[/i]…?”

[/spoiler]