Vic had invited the entire team, but Rector said that, although the Ordoian military were friendly to the Big Four, we shouldn’t reveal our roster so soon. Disappointing, but most of them weren’t planning on attending anyway (Morgan said Rector’s orders were a good excuse to stay home). As a result, only three were attending: myself, Chunhua, and Kotone.
I was coming because of course I was.
Kotone wanted free food and drinks.
Chunhua didn’t trust Kotone with free food and drinks.
We’d been to his place a few times in the past three years, but every time I walked into his family’s penthouse, I’d get hit with the worst whiplash imaginable. This couldn’t possibly be his home, right? It was way too big, way too clean, and way too fancy to belong to the biggest dumbass in Ordo, but the pictures and trophies on the wall reminded me that he was born with a silver spoon.
That, and the guests.
The party was well under-way by the time we arrived. Humorously, you could divide the room in half: on the left were military officers who had shed their uniforms in favor of holding whisky glasses and cigars, and on the right were relatives and family friends from Indonesia and were speaking a completely different language.
Despite the division, the room was booming with laughter and drinks, as friends and family told stories about old times while they snacked at their plates. The Summer Scare was in the past, now, just another footnote in the wild history of the systemic world.
Looks like the parents had another child to brag about.
From the living room, a special someone noticed our quiet entrance and raced to greet us. She was a short, Indonesian woman with a sweet smile, but make no mistake, you couldn’t find a more ferocious matriarch. Meet Cahaya Taslim, the mother.
After we exchanged the usual hugs and hellos, Miss Taslim held Chunhua by the arms (she was her favorite). “Thank you for coming. I don’t know where my son is; he’s somewhere in this…” She muttered something in Indonesian before clicking her tongue. “Mess, but he’ll appear. Trust.”
She began pointing at various spots in the house. “Food and drinks are in the kitchen. The bathroom is over there—make sure you knock first—and gifts go there. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, and please, don’t be a stranger. We’re all family under this roof.”
We nodded.
“Now!” Miss Taslim patted Chunhua’s arm. “Let’s catch up. Tell me about Angels Guild! Come, come!”
I held up my gift-bag. “I’ll put my gift away, but I’ll talk to you later, ma’am.”
Miss Taslim waved as she (forcibly) brought the girls to the living room. Don’t misunderstand, Momma Taslim was a lovely woman, but I needed a beer or two before my interrogation. She was incredibly nosy; plus, she kept nudging us to help Victor find a wife. If only she knew how hopeless her son was…
Well, that’s a conversation for another time.
As I navigated through the crowd, a familiar, boisterous laugh roared from the kitchen. Looks like stopping by the gift table wasn’t necessary. I diverted course and poked my head through the doorway first. The officers had conquered the territory for themselves, gathering around an island with booze in their breaths and chips in their fingers.
Amongst the seniors, I found the man I was looking for: a weathered but hearty mil with a freshly-trimmed beard, white clouds in his eyes, and a wide, happy and proud smile. Every time I met him, he was either laughing, smiling, or both. Then again, I never saw him at his job. But hey, this was Captain Arthur Farrow of the Ordo Aerial Command.
I knocked on the doorway, interrupting their loud conversation. “Captain!”
Arthur’s hazel eyes lit up seeing me. “Alexander, there you are! I was wondering when you were going to show up!” He pushed through his friends and pulled me in for a quick embrace. “How have you been, Slayer?”
He patted my back as I morbidly chuckled. “Exhausted as hell, but I’m pulling through.”
“Good, good! Oh!” He faced his fellow officers. “This is my son’s best friend and teammate, Alexander Shen. Alex, this is—ah, never mind, you don’t need to know these old fucks.” (“Go to hell, Farrow!”) “Without Alex, my boy would be dead in a ditch—oh, where’s Chunhua and Kotone?”
I vaguely motioned toward the living-room. “Your wife has them occupied.”
“I’ll find them later!” Arthur looked down and saw the bag I was holding. “What did you bring for Victor?”
“Actually, this is for you.” I showed its contents to the room: a bottle of Alto Sphere bourbon, one of the finest you could find in Cirropolis and only in Cirropolis. My knowledge of alcohol was poor, but supposedly, this bourbon tasted better on an airship than down here. Whether or not that’s a marketing statement, don’t ask me.
When I revealed the bourbon, eyes lit up throughout the kitchen. A couple officers whistled, impressed by “my” statement.
Arthur took the bottle in his hands and chuckled, reading the label. “How did you get your hands on this?”
“I’ll confess: I’m just the messenger. It’s a gift from my commander to you."
“Ha, is this the same commander who’s turning my boy into a nurse?” Arthur set the bottle on the counter.
“There’s no one else, and before you ask, the rumors are true. Our commander’s ex-military, Marine Corps.”
Arthur wiped his lips and laughed, reading the label again. “I never thought I’d see an American—let alone a rifle—lead a team of Angels’ finest, but this city is full of surprises, isn’t it?”
“Too many, I think.”
“Mmm.” A quiet second passed as the Captain thought about things for a moment—what things, I didn’t know. Once he was done, he raised his finger and addressed his friends, “Let me speak with Alex for a few minutes. When I come back, the bourbon oughta be untouched.”
“It’d better be a quick talk,” an officer said. “It might be a decoration piece in a couple minutes.”
“I know a good spot on my wall for your head, sir, but if you excuse me. C’mon, Alex.” Arthur ushered me out of the kitchen and into a quiet hallway, separated from the rest of the guests. Of course, the moment I thought about how I’d never seen him in a serious context, he pulled me aside for a serious conversation.
Everything was changing in the Slayer Capital as of late, one-by-one, big and small.
Captain leaned against the wall, and his authority shone through in his experienced eyes. “Talk with me straight, Alexander. Your assignment isn’t ordinary, is it?”
There was no use lying. I was in no position to. “No, sir, and I’m not at liberty to discuss the finer details. Me and Vic both are.”
“I’m concerned. The Scare might’ve ended uneventfully, but anyone with an ear to the ground can hear something’s a-rumbling.”
Yeah, and the rumbling was caused by my footsteps.
“I can’t confirm or deny anything, you know that, but this conversation isn’t meant for a foot-soldier like me. Here.” From my wallet, I produced a business card with Rector’s phone-number and email. “I suspected this conversation might happen. This is Rector’s contact info. I can’t guarantee he’ll completely satisfy you, but better his mouth than mine. You'll also speak with Overseer, but we haven't set up his phone-line yet.”
Arthur reluctantly took the business card, looking over the information. He was contemplative.
I continued, “But as the only thing keeping Vic away from a six-foot grave, I have his back. Always. That goes for the entire team. We might be wet around the ears, yeah, but we’re tight.”
Captain licked his lips. “I nearly lost my son a few weeks ago in what should’ve been a routine try-out. The Union arrested him, thinking he was a goddamn geddon. We have all the magic and tech you can dream of, and the world is hardly any safer.”
I gulped. “I know that more than anyone, sir.”
“I know you do.” Arthur tucked the business card away and heartily patted my shoulder. “You’re a great kid. This world needs men like you, Alex. I feel better knowing you’re in my son’s corner.”
“I’ll do my best to keep him out of trouble.”
“Keep him out of a coffin. Trouble comes whether we like it or not.” Don’t I know it. “Tell your commander that I appreciate the gift, and I’ll have a talk with Rector soon. Now, no more business-talk.” Arthur gently pushed me out of the hallway. “Enjoy the party, my boy.”
***
I still haven't found Victor or his sister anywhere, but they’ll show up eventually.
Instead, I roamed around, speaking with people whom I didn’t know the names of and helping myself to the delicious food and drinks. Chunhua and Kotone were stuck-to-the-hip, using each other as a protective ward against unwanted conversations. Good for them, I guess.
After enough wandering, the balcony caught my attention. A group of four occupied the space: talking, drinking, doing what regular people do in a party. What struck me in particular was their age. Couldn’t be more than five years older than me. Oh, their tattoos got my eye as well. Although the designs were mostly obscured by their clothes, they had some serious ink.
Military ink.
In the group, I spotted a certain idiot’s older brother and favorite of the Taslim children: Ethan Taslim. Like their father, he was a mil. Instead of pursuing nepotism in Ordo, he had a flourishing career as an Expeditioner in Otherguard Special Operation (OGSO), Aviation. Expeditioners were the superheroes among their siblings, unrivaled in recovery operations both in homeworld and in expeds no matter the danger. Archknell was famously rescued by them within forty-eight hours of Dissolution, and the operation led to his popularity which started the chain of events leading to his current position.
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To have that level of discipline and work ethic, Ethan was the polar opposite of his younger brother in every way. Similar faces, very different experiences.
I hadn’t talked with Ethan much; he was always off conducting top-secret operations like rescuing Counterforce operators behind enemy lines or saving Slayers who got themselves stuck in a ravine. I didn’t know what else he did beyond that, then again, not like the information was public.
Well, that’s the point of a conversation.
I knocked on the screen-door and barged into the cool nightly breeze. “Hey, strangers.”
“Alex, what’s up?” Ethan held his beer high, smiling. “Long time no see.”
“Who’s this?” spat the dirty blonde at the far-end of the balcony, not taking too kindly to my sudden intrusion. She had pretty menacing eyes, helped by the small scar marking her bottom-lip. She struck me as a no-bullshit tight-ass—a woman who you should watch your words around unless you want a knife to the stomach. Chunhua, basically.
Ethan discreetly returned a glare as if telling her to back down. “A friend of my brother’s, Taylor.”
“Alexander Shen.” I waved at everyone. “We’re wearing our wings together.”
“Congratulations,” said one of Ethan’s friends, a dark-skinned man with a thick African accent. We shook hands; his palm was sandpaper and his grip could crush my fingers if he tried hard enough. “Nshole.”
Last but not least was a redhead who had the same eyes as Victor: that of an idiot who didn’t think he was an idiot. A good, firm handshake though. “Orton. Congrats on being an Angel. Heard it’s a pretty good gig.”
I anxiously rubbed my fingers together. Either I was hallucinating, or Nshole and Orton had the same surgery scar on their wrists. “...You don’t know half of it.”
Ethan leaned backwards on the railing far enough that any sane and sober person would get nervous. “How’s working there? I understand the Scare hit the guild pretty hard.”
I glanced at Taylor who was maintaining a piercing gaze hidden by her bottle. “It’s manageable. I’m in the process of training, so that’s been another scare in itself. Really, it’s been one scare after another since May.”
“Yeah.” Ethan tapped his bottle, smacking his lips together, and an uncomfortable silence whistled through the balcony for a solid second. Finally, he said, “I heard a pretty interesting story from my brother but I couldn’t find sources online. If you don’t mind me asking, but at your old job, did you really take down a couple C-Ranks as a ren?”
That question snatched the interest of his military buddies. Orton choked on his hard seltzer, Nshole became intensely intrigued, and Taylor’s soft contempt roared into quiet hostility. Out of a team of four Expeditioners, I was somehow the most interesting thing on the balcony.
Well, at least Lyressa and Glory Guild did their job. They kept my name out of papers for my safety.
I shrugged, eyes wandering but I made sure to keep everybody in my line-of-sight. “Four middle-rankers at the same time.”
“Four?” Orton held up four fingers as if I didn’t know how to count. “Politely, you look like a tough guy, but that’s bullshit. Even if they’re the shittiest middle-rankers in the world, four against one will turn you into a vegetable.”
“You’d be dead,” Taylor snarled from her corner.
Nshole didn’t add onto the skepticism but his eyes told me he agreed. Not Ethan. Everyone but him thought the story was gobbledygook and for a good reason. It was too fucking absurd, but hey, in this situation… Should I be flattered or scared right now?
I crossed my arms, fingers twitching. “Didn’t we talk about this before? I thought your brother spun all sorts of tales about our time in OU, Ethan.”
“About how a business major beat up swords in Systemic Works?” Ethan confirmed, smiling yet not for a good reason I suspected. “I thought my brother was being dramatic, but clearly, there’s some truth in the pudding. How did it happen? What’s your big secret?”
I shrugged. “There’s no secret. You just need to understand how swords operate, do some research on your targets and create action plans, then execute them when the time comes. Easier said than done obviously, but a bunch of nobody middle-rankers weren't that dangerous.”
My answer, despite the truth in my words, only caused the Expeditioners to deepen their brows and stand taller, and the temperature dropped to ice.
“Is that how you got those scars?” Orton asked, gesturing to my fucked-up hands. “By operating on CF basic doctrine?”
“By thinking you’re CF?” Taylor pressed further, eyes sharper than knives.
I might be hallucinating, but they were closer to me than before.
I cleared my throat. “I… I think I won’t answer those questions. Knowing the CF, everything's a secret.”
To ease the mood, I laughed but no one was laughing with me.
Ethan said, clear and dry as a gunshot, “And what would you know about the Counterforce?”
I became a hare surrounded by wolves. What should’ve been a pleasant talk had turned into a pigpen for God-knows-what. An interrogation? An excuse to throw me off the railing? The signals they were sending, none of them were good. Even Ethan—Vic’s own fucking brother—wasn’t giving me respect. Yeah, time to find an exit. While a chance for a graceful exit had expired a few seconds ago, these guys could kiss my ass.
“...You know,” I said while backing away toward the door while maintaining complete line-of-sight on all of them. “I'll also won't answer that question, so I think I’ll find Victor—”
Before my hand grabbed the handle, Nshole blocked me. “Easy, brother, stay for a little bit—”
“Something wrong, Nshole?”
Nshole paused, eyes widening, a quiet gasp left his rough lips.
I’d activated [Intimidating Presence], giving everyone a dose of mental warfare. Normally, activating [Skills] against normal humans was against the law, but no one would find out. Plus, as Expeditioners, these guys had some training in dispatching Slayers. Meaning, they could definitely kill me.
The mils received my mental attack, but instead of backing down, they did the opposite. Nshole growled and used his large body to completely block the door, becoming a pseudo-boundary to split the balcony. There was my half, and there was theirs. Ethan, Orton, and Taylor were grouped together, their drinks on the railing or on the ground, and they stood against me. Adrenaline sobered their blood.
Looks like I escalated the situation. At least I tried.
Seriously, though, what the fuck was their deal?
I hissed through my teeth: “Don’t I feel like the President? What are you guys on—?”
“Where did you get your training?” Ethan demanded with more poise than a Buddhist monk, his friendliness gone with the wind.
“Pass. We can play twenty questions on a later date—"
“You don’t dictate the terms, Angel,” Taylor sternly said. “Answer the question—”
“This is Victor’s fucking party for God’s sake, that’s the terms right there. Do you know what we do? We eat cake, get plastered, and wish him well—so don’t push your fucking luck, Expeditioners. Angels can fly, but bullets drop.”
Nshole, Orton, and Taylor shuffled their feet, tensing up.
They were getting ready to fight a Slayer.
Ethan remained stoic, unfazed by my blatant threat. Who was this fucker? “You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Alex.”
This asshole…
I clicked my tongue. “Throw the first punch, then, and see what happens. I’m done talking.”
Ethan bit his lip. His eyes darted to Nshole, the closest to me. If anyone was going to make a move, it’d either be him or Ethan himself. Whatever happens, they brought this onto themselves.
The wind kicked up, and the beer bottles sitting around sung a hollow whistle. Overhead, a passenger plane swooped over the building, its jet engines roaring and tearing through the air. On the other side of the wall, guests continued to laugh and share stories, ignorant to the stand-off happening in plain-view. None of these details distracted us—distracted them. Their focus was uncannily fixated. I could feel them peeling every detail about my stance, calculating the distance between us, estimating how fast I could move, my reaction time, that stuff.
I was doing the same thing.
Were these guys actually Expeditioners?
I—
The screen-door opened, and Nshole stepped out of the way to see who pulled the handle.
My savior: a beautiful cultivator. “Alex, there you are, I need you for a second.” She had her usual, threatening smile: she’d seen the pickle I was in.
I laughed; I was lucky to have such observant friends.
The mils relaxed, knowing a brawl was out-of-the-question.
“I’ll see you guys later,” I said without looking at them, turning off [Intimidating Presence] to avoid spooking the other guests, but at the doorway, I stopped.
Nshole raised an eyebrow.
I whispered to him, “Stand in my way again, rifle, and I’ll break your fucking hand. All of you, even if you’re my friend’s brother.”
Chunhua was in earshot but she wasn’t fazed by my threat.
I entered the penthouse and she shut the door for me.
***
As it turned out, the motherfucker was upstairs the whole time.
Inside the family office, Vic was with a smaller woman about two years his junior. Unlike her brothers, she wasn’t an idiot and didn’t like picking fights for no damn reason. Instead, she resembled her mother in face and personality, but despite her gentleness, overestimating her tolerance was a fatal mistake. As a Traveling Healer, you often visited some of the harshest places on Earth to give aid to those in need.
Miranda Taslim saw me enter the office first. “Alexander, it’s good to see you again!” she said with a faint pink rash across her cheeks.
Vic waved, holding a binder under his armpit. “‘Sup.”
“I’ve been meaning to find you, asshole. I—” Let’s not talk about Ethan with Miranda in the room. “What’s with the binder?”
Miranda answered for him, “It’s my old notes from when I was studying. Since your commander’s sending him to a hospital, I thought he might need them. But uhm, h-how have you been, Alex? I hope Victor hasn’t been a pain in your side…”
“An average amount,” I said. “We can catch up later. I need to bother your brother with something important real quick.”
Disappointed, Miranda nodded. “I’ll be downstairs then. Don’t make too much of a mess.”
She hustled out of the room and shut the door for our sake.
Vic set the binder down on a nearby table and saw the distress in my eyes. “What happened? Did Mom or Dad say something—?”
“What do you know about Ethan?” I asked, figuring it was better to ease him into the incident rather than telling him straight up. “About his time as an Expeditioner, I mean.”
“What—? I don’t know, man, he doesn’t talk about that stuff. It’s, y'know, confidential.” Vic walked to the darkwood desk and leaned against the back-edge, crossing his arms and feet. “Why, what’s wrong?”
I exhaled. “Well, your brother and his friends nearly threw me off the balcony because—well, I don’t fucking know. Apparently, incapping swords is way too suspicious.”
Victor blinked. “Huh?”
After giving a quick rundown of what had transpired, Vic started pacing. A part of him didn’t want to believe it, but he knew I wouldn’t lie about these things. However, suddenly shoving the drama into his small hands put him in a tough spot.
“What if…” he started, “...what if I talk to him—?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if that’s a good idea—” (“Alex.”) “—hear me out. Ethan will probably push for more information about me. If he does, don’t say anything. If he apologizes for his behavior, though, I think we’re good. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though.”
“He’s my brother, Alex. I can’t just give him a cold shoulder—”
“I’m not saying you should. Just that, whenever the topic’s about me, drop it.”
Vic grimaced. “I dunno, man, I think both of you are blowing this out of proportion.”
“I get that. Believe me, I don’t want more drama, but you know I’m carrying skeletons that should never see the light of day. I need to protect myself, and if your brother gets too nosy, I can’t let that slide.”
“Right…” Victor rubbed his face and stared at the ceiling. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. Just—fuck—just chill, okay? Don’t talk to him, don’t talk to his friends, don’t mention this to Dad unless he brings it up first. Play it cool and stick with the girls.”
“Wasn’t planning on doing anything else but that.”
“Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna ruin tonight for everybody.”
“No one wants that, but…” I loudly exhaled, trying to release the tension in my chest. “Thanks, Vic. Sorry for bringing a downer on your big day.”
“It’s fine. Better you tell me than not, but dammit dude, can you have a normal day for once?”
“Impossible.”