NationStates Jolt Archive

The strong soul is as a fortress of steel;
Once taken, it is not easily recovered.
-Proverb of Kaddo, Damis warlord of Seventh-cycle Kandarin

The atmosphere inside the shuttle was quiet, even sterile. The air outside slipped by with a barely perceptible whoosh, thanks to the very latest in atmospheric drives and insulation. In a way, Shoul Trallosk, representative of House Honist's interests in Xiopothos, missed the cheaper and noiser drive. It was rhythmic, even relaxing. More importantly, it distracted from any obligation to make conversation with one's fellow passengers. This was especially important when one's fellow passengers were a collection of Damis Security operatives.

It wasn't as if the two houses were actually making war on each other, rumors aside, but there were certain stereotypes at work. The average member of House Honist saw Damis as a collection of barely-constrained bloodthirsty maniacs. The average member of House Damis saw Honist as an assortment of ineffective intellectuals. The reality of a quiet, business-suit-clad Honist elf sharing a small, windowless cabin with a cadre of power-armored elite troops did not do anything to reduce these ideas, much less create conversation.

So Shoul ignored them. He checked his watch, or his mail, or (for the nth time) the profile on Northrop-Grumman. His superior, Lady Penteleimon, had expressed a special interest in this case. Why was unclear, but he had a few guesses, all of which involved maintaining the only real link the two houses retained since the death of Lord Khaz. Whatever the cause, it would be clear soon enough.

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Under a distant sky, wings beat in unison, black wings that would dwarf the largest of sails, bearing creatures of sinew and carapace, serpents whose bodies were the size of freight trains and whose bite could break the strongest of armor. They whirled together, a great unending flock, always flying above the wasteland and below the storm. The storm filled the sky now, discolored lights shining from a growing wound in the fabric of the world, the Leviathan's footprint stamped into the heavens...
A busy office, well within the Administrative Zone, alive with the drab energy of bureaucracy. This was an office of special purpose, where the status of each zone was analyzed and re-analyzed, statistics and reports checked daily. Westmont would need to be downgraded from yellow to red, that had been seen to, but the approvals were not yet checked off. It was dealt with, and the proposal sent to the Administrator's desk...
Christmas at Tilden; a fond memory. A girl with red hair was opening a present and laughing. A boy in the dress of the Khanates hugged her and laughed with her. Behind, another girl was taking pictures. Mark shuffled on my shoulder, nervous...
The image swept away, and again the storm, the inexorable march of the Enemy, a million voices of hatred and death calling to go forth...

"Miss Alexander? Your 3:00 is half an hour out." There was a pause. "As you instructed me to tell you."

"Thank you, Maria." Anna looked around as one coming out of a daydream would; her voice did not sound like her own. Slowly the dimly-lit meditation room with its stark decoration came back into focus. "Please inform the shuttle pool to prepare a transport to Characoi. I won't be late this time."

"Will do." The aide slipped out of the room, leaving Anna alone. The overlord of Xiopothos had never cultivated a close relationship with her staff. Mostly, it was because those of her caste weren't expected to; Almost all of them had a single Adjutant with which they worked closely. But she had refused one. It was a decision that Lady Anna Alexander had come to regret at times, but she stood by it. Personal warmth and closeness were not worth the cost of watching one Adjutant after another slip into madness.

Officially, the upcoming meeting was one of purely economic function. The Kandarin Federation had only recently come into contact with the Corporation, and most of the Houses were eager to expand their business connections to such fertile new ground. Honist had sent a representative, who was expected to arrive at 3:00, to join the discussion early. As it was, Anna suspected that the opportunities that had arisen were mostly the sort that Damis would take...but that was just as well. Privately, she suspected that getting the Chairman away from his homeland might help him as well. In any case, it would be good to see him again.

Collecting her bags, Anna flicked off the dim lights and left the room. It would not do to be late.

One can admit that it’s funny how words – the basic constructs of day-to-day language, strung together almost effortlessly as we speak – can create so many problems when used for a specific purpose. An outpouring of intense grief from the loss of a father or son, or a conveying of heartfelt love and affection for a wife, or perhaps the ever constant guilt from committing a wrongful deed to the one you love. It constantly strains at every fiber of your being, pressing you to say that which you know needs to be said. You always delay from even attempting by focusing on other tasks, thinking that you’re moving past this situation, but as you soon discover, there will always be something that reminds you of it, always pressuring you toward that end. It is something that will need to be done eventually and delaying it will only make things worse for yourself.

Though when you finally reach that point in time where you feel ready to go through with it, what happens? Your heart races – pounding in the chest and pulsing throughout your body – as your mouth begins to move, forming the words quietly as your thoughts regear themselves. But when your lips open to sound out your thoughts, you find your voice uttering a mere intelligible sound or perhaps a syllable at best…then nothing…

“You say something?” inquired Siri softly, her eyes now fixated upon her husband sitting across the shuttle from her, almost expecting it to be something of importance.

For what seemed to be an eternity, Jack gazed with a blank expression back at her, wishing he still had the will to go forward, to truly speak what was on his mind. But he could not. With a simple sigh emanating from his lips, he shook his head slowly. “No, nothing…”

Her eyes continued to stare into his, her voice responding with a tinge of disappointment and sadness. “Oh.”

Much more had to be said – the two knew as much – but neither of them felt as if they could truly go through with such an outpouring of emotion at this moment. So without much further interaction, the couple returned to their reports concerning the Kandarinese nation, not content at all with the silence in the shuttle that was only disturbed by the gentle hum of the drive systems propelling the vehicle.

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Beyond these strained relationships, at the front of the shuttle, the pilot was almost entirely closed off from the rear compartment; the only access being a small hatch no wider than an average human to fit through in the event of an emergency. He was largely content with his job, for it was fairly quiet and comfortable and didn’t allow for too much excitement, which was rather nice since he was flying nothing more than a glorified taxicab.

Today did not seem all that different from the usual trips aside from the changes in destination, so he went about his methodic process of approach confirmation with whatever control tower or derivative thereof was in this nation.

This is November-Golf-Charlie-One-Zero-Three.

Be advised, we are on approach to Xiopothos. Intended landing at Characoi.

Please confirm and provide further instructions for entry. Over.

Acknowledged, November-Golf-Charlie-One-Zero-Three.

This is Characoi Tower. Await transfer of flight instructions.

Instructions transferred. Be aware that all Characoi zones are White Zones. Deviation from flight plans may result in escort. All passengers and cargo are liable to scanning bar diplomatic permissions. Welcome to Xiopothos.

Had the air-traffic tech on shift met the Grummian pilot, she would have recognized a kindred spirit. Most inbound traffic was either purely automated, purely military, or the business of the freight yards. There was just enough passenger traffic to keep the air-traffic crew from losing their edge but not enough to make their jobs stressful. It was a cozy job, well worth turning down more lucrative transfers elsewhere.

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As the Corporation's shuttle broke through the thick clouds above Characoi, the vista of the capital of the Xiopothos Colony spread beneath the watching eyes of the visitors. It was a very large city by Terran standards, and a great deal of what was visible was one unbroken downtown area. The familiarity of it stopped there.

Many, even most, of the vast towers of concrete, steel and glass had large cracks or holes in them, as if the whole city had been through some apocalyptic war. A few even cut off well before their original heights. Yet not one was collapsed, for wherever a building showed damage, the missing structural members were replaced with components of a dark, metallic substance with a dull reddish sheen. The replacements were simple, sheer and unadorned, a clumsy addition to the artistry of the architecture they replaced. The only complex feature was a vast spiderweb of exposed catwalks that appeared to connect practically every building in the city.

Far above the hybridized city rose a mishmash of colossal edifices of the same dark metal, each a collection of intertwined spires whose windows emitted no apparent light. At least twelve were clearly visible, but visibility was poor - the clouds the shuttle had passed through were the forerunners of a line of thunderclouds that swept low over the horizon. Dense sheets of rain could already be seen in the distance, obscuring any part of the city behind them.

The shuttle slowed, and settled into a linear approach pattern facing the largest of the fortresses. As it grew closer, patterns of red lights winked around the entrance to a yawning shuttle bay. Characoi had few guests, but they would not be left out in the rain.

Once the Grummian shuttle had settled upon an approach trajectory to land within the tower, Siri had departed to the lavatory in the rear of the vessel, intending to look at least presentable for this meeting, especially after spending these several hours in transit here. Such lengthy travels generally did not aid in keeping one’s appearance neat, and certainly not after one has fallen asleep for a period during it.

So now, closed inside this particularly cramped room, she first washed her face with cool water in order to freshen herself up, then proceeded to untie her rather lengthy hair and allow it to fall to her shoulders. A fine-bristled brush gently stroked at the golden strands, straightening them and breaking through what few knots had managed to appear there. It was a little amusing to her when she considered that after all these centuries, all the pain and injuries that she had suffered, that she could not help but cringe and wince when she snagged a troublesome one, which forced her to yank at her roots enough to force this painful knot out of there.

A few minutes had passed before Siri had finished this task before she decided that perhaps some perfume might be a good idea too. As she set her brush down on one end of the sink and reached for a slender navy blue bottle on the other, the shuttle was struck by a sudden, but yet brief bout of turbulence which caused her to stumble forward, knocking the bottle from its place and sending it crashing down. Instinctively she called the bottle towards her but was only greeted by the clink of the glass as it struck the metal floor.

“Huh?” she muttered, leaning to the side of the porcelain sink, peering downward at the perfume that had rolled into the corner of the room.

A hand stretched out towards the bottle, summoning it once more as it manipulated the strands of magic that flowed through her and that object. She pulled those strands towards her, forcing more of her concentration into accomplishing this and found that while she could do it, it required a bit more effort in doing so and left her slightly confused as to why this might be happening. Possibilities were considered. Perhaps she was far too worked up from earlier, perhaps it was something indigenous to this very land, or perhaps it was something else at work here.

Jack’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You coming?” he asked, shouting through the door of the lavatory. “We’ve landed.”

Nodding partially to herself and to him, even though he obviously could not see her, Siri rolled the perfume bottle around in her hand, staring at it in confusion and curiosity before she set it back down onto the edge of the sink and left the room. When she joined her husband at the rear hatch of the shuttlecraft, he was standing there, waiting patiently for her and for the pressure between the vessel and the building to be equalized.

His attire for this event never seemed to deviate from the norm, no matter how much he wished for it to, but that was the nature of his job and of his own past. There really wasn’t much he could do to get out of the military dress uniform, no matter how stiff and restrictive its dark blue trousers and jacket, along with the light blue collared shirt and tie, managed to be. And the brightly polished black dress shoes hurt his aging feet these days, especially when doing any significant amounts of walking. Though, he always did wear the medals that were pinned to the left side of his chest with pride, all seven decades worth of service in the military, including the five silver stars along both of his shoulderboards.

However, Siri had chosen to avoid this path of donning a frilly, colorful dress of any sort, not at all wanting to look like some prissy trophy wife, considering the fact that she was going to meet a warlord of all people. She had instead opted for a different route, clean but yet with that impression of domination that she so preferred. A thick brown trenchcoat, inlaid with plates of ceramic to guard against any weaponry she went against, was the prominent piece of her clothing. Pants of the same leathery material along with heavy utility boots added to this, along with a finely stitched together black sweater that one just got glimpses of beyond the opening in her coat. Of course, much to the dismay of whoever she visited, she carried newly-sharpened daggers and throwing stars along her belt with her lightsaber and twin silver revolvers in their holsters on either side of her body, and one could imagine what else she had hidden around on her. Now, whether this would be a problem with the Kandarinese remained to be seen.

After some time had passed, the pressure had been equalized, and the shuttle began filtering in air from the outside world, adjusting the temperature to comfortable levels accordingly. Soon afterward, the rear hatch gradually lowered, much like a drawbridge, and allowed the two Grummian leaders to step out from the vessel.

As the Chairman and Chairwoman stepped out of their shuttle, they were greeted with a cluttered scene. The shuttlebay was at least two hundred meters long, spanning the width of the fortress' face. About nine-tenths of the surface space was devoted to tending large, vaguely insectile military shuttles armored with a similar material to that which coated the exterior of the fortress. All were clearly the same basic model, but each one was armed slightly differently, and some sported boxy modules for troop transport. Above, a second tier of shuttles hung from hooks in the high ceiling, accessible via a spiderweb of catwalks. Still, everything in the general area around the Grummian shuttle had been neatly squared away.

A half-dozen Kandarinese officials, mostly elves, stood waiting to greet the Grummians. All were dressed in formal attire, a sort of hybrid between robe and suit that combined the functions of both quite effectively. Each one wore the rank insignia of a different caste, but all shared a common insignia in the form of two shoulder bands. One was the symbol of House Damis: A golden dagger, blood-stained, against a background of black and red weave. The second was less familiar: A bizarre creature, covered in dark sectioned plates and coiled in a ring to bite its own tail with a compound jaw.

"Welcome to Xiopothos, Chairwoman and Chairman O'Neill. The Colonial Administration and Lady Anna Alexander send their greetings." The speaker was a short human with cropped hair and an appearance that could be described as somewhat Asiatic. He - or perhaps she, as it wasn't immediately clear - wore the insignia of an elite member of a Kandarinese warrior caste. "I am Sjodin Kim of Damis Security, and Miss Alexander has instructed me to show you to the site of your meeting. She would greet you in person, but she has only just arrived as well. If you're ready, we may go at any time."

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It was technically true. While Anna had indeed just arrived at the fortress, she had done very little to make herself presentable. Outside of the capital, she preferred to dress entirely informally; members of her caste did not identify themselves as such unless it was actually needed, and Anna normally did not need to do so. As a consequence, the only formal attire that she actually owned was stored in Characoi. And so, while Kim greeted the Grummian delegation, Anna had set up in a secluded lavatory on a lower level of the fortress, a large if well-kept facility used by a unit that was presently off-shift.

Anna's formal attire was nothing like Siri's, and yet at the same time anything but frilly. She wore a plain blood-red dress with a great many pockets. In some circles, the dress would have been considered shockingly conservative: It was ankle-length, with long sleeves and a closed collar. To accompany the dress, she also wore boots and gloves of plain black leather, but no jewelry save for a series of tightly-bound steel rings to hold together painfully straight dirty-blonde hair that fell to her waist.

None of this did anything to allay the fact that Anna appeared to be about twelve years old at most, and had appeared so for many years. It was one of many reasons why she tried to avoid personally presiding over functions as much as possible. Regardless, Jack was a personal friend, and she could hardly avoid him in this case.

Initially, Jack’s gaze was not brought upon those who stood before the Grummian leaders to greet them, but was instead focused toward the ceiling of this shuttlebay, carefully eyeing the transport vessels suspended from above. One would think that he was concerned that they may break loose from their moorings and come crashing to the floor on top of him, but that was not the case. He was used to the Corporation’s simplistic transports, rather plain and uncreative they were, so the ones here had certainly attracted his attention and interest. Though, one could very well say that despite his inactivity in the military, his love for it had never left him, especially not his desire to take one of those vessels around the block…or planet, even.

His attention was finally brought back down to ground level with the spoken words of Sjodin, who he promptly responded to in his usual informal manner, with an added smile. Though, considering all things in the past, it may have been a bit forced, or perhaps it truly was genuine, given the present situation. “Thanks,” he replied extending his hand for the typical handshake. “Pleased to meet ya.”

On the other hand, Siri merely bowed her head respectfully as she nearly always insisted upon doing, no matter the greeting. Handshakes were the one thing she could never get used to doing, and certainly anything more than a head bow was establishing far too much subservience toward the other person. “A pleasure,” she added to her husband’s greeting.

A glance toward Siri with an accompanying nod, which was promptly returned to him, preceded Jack’s next statement. “Lead the way,” he answered with an outstretched hand.

"Very well, then. This way." Gesturing to the Grummians to follow, Kim tapped out a code on a keypad beside the nearest door, which slid open. "You'll have to excuse the atmosphere. This place isn't exactly built for state visits."

As if to illustrate, a series of loud and repetitive thud noises could be heard from far outside. Within seconds, there was a flash of red lights and blaring of sirens in a far corner of the shuttlebay. On the second tier, a line of power-armored figures filed hastily into the back of one of the military shuttles. As soon as all were on board, it unhooked from the ceiling and dropped, only to hang motionless in the air for a few seconds before accelerating forward. The troop shuttle was followed by several gunship shuttles, which began moving almost immediately after the first had left the hangar.

The hallway outside the shuttlebay was exceptionally large. Its width would have been noteworthy in its own right, but the truly remarkable attribute of the hallway was its height - so much so that the floor and ceiling were not visible. The hall was a void between monumental walls, between which stretched a diverse mess of walkways, both small and large, lateral and perpendicular to the walls. The space appeared to be scaled to accommodate the flight plans of shuttlecraft, and indeed from time to time a shuttle would weave its way through the spaces between walkways. These shuttles appeared to be a larger model compared to those in the bay, with space for two large modules instead of one, and one even towed a chain of modules that flowed together like an aerial train.

The passages beyond were generally wide and featureless, save for flat walls that occasionally sloped away to provide access to smaller passages. A military mind, and there were several present, would have noted the complete absence of cover. Access to all rooms was be available only via the smaller side passages, with the sole exception of heavy reinforced doors leading to ever-present large elevators.

After the Grummian party had passed through a long succession of similar passages, hallways and elevators it was clear that the entire fortress was built in roughly the same manner, with little apparent exception to the modular nature of the facility's design. Eventually they reached their destination, a meeting room on a lower level of the fortress.

With the dizzying amounts of activity and peculiar surroundings contained within this complex, it could be said that it was quite distracting for Jack, much to the detriment of those that were trying to lead Siri and him around. Before leaving the shuttlebay, he had managed to force the group to stop for several minutes as his attention was grabbed by the shrieking sirens and accompanying clatter of the armored troops. He carefully watched them as they disappeared aboard one of the shuttles and cruise out through the entrance from which the Grummian couple had come. Idle curiosity made him wonder where they were rushing off to and why, but he didn’t feel as if he should ask about such things just yet. Though, admittedly, there was a slight desire to tag along with these soldiers, even though he understood that his presence here was for diplomacy, not to get himself shot at.

But exiting the shuttlebay did not lessen his curiosity any as while the rest of the group steadily marched forward, he continued to lag behind, often finding himself peering over the walkway’s railing at the darkness below. He wondered how far it this hall’s floor was and was half tempted to toss a stone or a coin down there to see, but figured that it would be his luck that it would either strike someone in the head or would be muffled by the shuttlecraft passing through.

However, despite his clearly apparent interest in nearly everything that this procession had passed by, Siri remained the complete opposite in her attitude. She made a point of not speaking with anyone around her, nor did she stray her eyes from her destination. Such novelties in this environment did not impress her in the slightest and rarely ever did in these cases, for they had no importance in her mind and were simply just distractions from what was important. She did not care about the unique, the flashy, nor anything else but the people who were behind this…

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Sometime later, after a lengthy stroll through this structure and the delays thereof, the group had finally reached the location where this conference would be held. It was a rather small room by most people’s standards and was circular in design it would seem. But the manner by which the walls had been constructed – vertically aligned metal slats pieced together in an accordion-like fashion – would lead one to believe that perhaps there was something more behind these walls than would appear. Though, their sturdiness would perhaps dispel those thoughts.

The remainder of the room mirrored the standards of the complex it resided in, except for a polished, wooden table that was the focal point of the room and was surrounded with enough chairs to accommodate those who had just entered along with the three already present. Near this table, the three consisted of Shoul Trallosk, who clearly represented the interests of House Honist as his insignia of a white rose contrasted the blood-stained golden daggers of the rest of the Kandarinese here, Dispater Olinde, the Colonial Administrator who appeared to be around his thirties in age and wore what one figure to be a typical business suit, and finally, Anna Alexander.

Being the first to greet these two entirely new people, he exchanged the customary handshakes with each of them, along with an introduction and the usual “Pleased to meet ya.” But he hit the proverbial brick wall when he reached Anna and stopped just before he called her by her first name. While yes, he had gotten to know her personally during the party in Tor Yvresse, he figured that it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to continue on that while everyone else was here – there was a certain level of decorum that ought to be abided by here.

“Miss Alexander,” Jack finally replied quite friendly in demeanor. “It’s always good to see ya again. I hope you’ve been doing well?”

When it came time for Siri to greet her, she noticed something peculiar, something unsettling about this person, beyond the strangely young appearance that was put forth. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet, but there was a certain uneasiness caused by her presence. “A pleasure,” Siri stated with a nod, quite adamant about putting forth at least a neutral attitude.

"A pleasure to meet you too, Madame Chairwoman. I've heard a lot about you." Anna reached across the table to offer a handshake to Siri. Perhaps it was a tactless gesture, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

As Siri shook the Kandarinese representative's tiny hand, she was immediately aware of something terribly wrong. She thought frantically, searching for possibilities in a split second. The hand was cold and stiff, not at all unlike a corpse's hand. The Chairwoman's mind latched onto that connection, and for a moment she looked at Anna and saw something different. The girl was not, could not be alive; she must have died years ago, even centuries, and was now nothing more than a puppet of unliving flesh, mouthpiece to some malign and inhuman intelligence. The only thing that appeared alive and vibrant about the puppet was its sheet of dirty-blonde hair. Siri had seen that before. But where? At once, an image flashed before her mind: A head of the same color of hair, strands streaming over the bleeding mouth of a woman who lay still in the dirt of a dying village. And again, another image: A badly decayed body with long hair of the same color, clearly faded from some brighter gold, slumped over a throne in a ruined and empty chamber. Panicked, Siri released her grip. Immediately, the sensation faded, and Anna appeared young and healthy again.

"Are you well, Madame Chairwoman?" Anna asked, noting Siri's momentary distress. "We have excellent medical personnel on site if there is any issue..."

"It's nothing." Siri waved her hand in the universal signal of non-concern.

"Very well." On cue, the Kandarinese delegation took their seats, followed shortly thereafter by the Grummians. "I know you who like to get to the point, so first things first." Anna nodded to Dispater Olinde, who began speaking once she had stopped.

"While we're mainly here to discuss trade of certain products - which, indeed, is why we are here instead of Malev or Hawthorne - such exchanges cannot prosper, nor continue, without the appropriate environment of agreement. We've reviewed your policies for diplomatic recognition and trade agreements, and hopefully you've had a chance to review ours. We've prepared an appropriate treaty statement - if, of course, it is satisfactory to all parties."

A two-page document, detailing all of the necessary terms of agreement required for this opening of trade to function as it properly should, was slid forward across the table towards the Grummian couple. Promptly picking it up, Jack was the first to settle back in his seat and actually read the length of it carefully, being as he had more of an understanding of international economics than his wife.

Divided into several sections, the terms thereof were relatively simple in comparison to most trade agreements and essentially assured that everyone understood what they were getting into. The first section covered the security protocols that were taken in Northrop-Grumman, referencing the identification cards that all visitors required upon entry, the security scans taken in customs and regular passenger travel and other assorted precautions. The second entailed approximately the same for the Kandarinese in identical detail. The next discussed provisions that would allow for reasonable regulations upon trade, such as sanitation for any food products, restrictions upon explosives being sent through standard post, and national security issues, for either nation. The final section mainly put forth the statement that all tariffs and other assorted taxes would be abolished on all trade between the Kandarinese and Grummian nations.

Seeing as how it contained nothing out of the ordinary and was up to what he had in mind, Jack removed a pen from his jacket pocket and signed it, then passed it over to his wife, who decided to skim over it briefly. She knew that if it had met his standards than surely it was good enough for her, so she borrowed his pen and did the same for her line at the end of the second page.

Sliding the document back over towards Anna, Jack responded, “That was much easier than the usual, really. Normally I’m spending hours here fighting over every single word, every single sentence, and comma, that turns what ought to be a pretty straightforward document into a fair sized book…”

"We considered doing that, but the 'just keep writing' style of diplomatic resolution went out of favor in Kandarin a few millenia ago." Olinde said. "Needless to say, studying the government documents from before then requires a shovel. But anyway, to business. You wouldn't have come here equipped to fight your way out"- with this he shot a glance at Siri- "if you weren't interested in what we have to offer."

"My department." Anna stood up from her chair and slid a pair of dark glasses over her eyes. Immediately, the walls of the room began to roll back like a curtain, revealing that the meeting chamber was merely a small annex of a vast room that stretched into the distance. However, it was not very tall - merely three stories at most - and was bathed in bright light. A catwalk from the meeting room joined with a crisscrossing network of similar walkways. Below, vehicles and soldiers moved about in a series of partitioned 'cubicles', each of which contained a different set of weapons or vehicles. "If you'll just come with me..."

The remark, which one could easily deduce was directed toward the heavily armed elf, elicited a rather prideful smirk from Siri. She had always enjoyed seeing what boundaries she could push in regard to the weaponry that was brought and what reactions they could bring from people in these faraway places. But honestly, she loved to toy with people more than anything.

However, Siri made not a single audible comment and just left them entirely within her innermost thoughts. She instead promptly rose from her seat upon the revealing of that brightly illuminated hall and made it a point to shove her hands into her pants’ pockets as she gazed outward towards the catwalks, opening more of her heavy coat to reveal additional belts of explosive bullets and countless knives around her waist.

On the other hand, Jack was not at all concerned by his wife’s demeanor – whether or not that was because he simply didn’t see it or was used to it after all these years remained to be seen – and simply directed his attention towards where they were being directed. He left his chair with a grunt and took up a place alongside Anna as they left the meeting room, with Siri just a little off to his side and behind him.