140 THE FEUD OF TWO FAMILIES
Valtor Veyran entered the diner alone, the neon sign above him buzzing faintly: "Six O'Clock Diner."
"What kind of game is Garius playing this time?" he muttered under his breath as he stepped inside.
The waitress was silent and polite, guided him to a corner booth. As he sat down, his phone vibrated—a new message.
"Take the tablet menu and write."
Valtor frowned, lifting the sleek digital menu in front of him. "Write what?" he grumbled, irritation rising.
A second message appeared on his screen: "Write: Kill Garius Zetheris. Then pay the price."
He froze. "Kill Garius? That was the man who had taken his daughter…the same man who asked him to come here."
For a long moment, he hesitated—then his expression hardened. "Fine," he muttered, quite happy to comply with the strange demand before tapping in the words: Kill Garius Zetheris.
The menu flickered.
A new text appeared:
"Do you want to place an assassination contract on Garius Zetheris? Y/N."
Valtor's eyes widened. "An assassination…?" He stared at the glowing prompt, then jabbed the Y button without a second thought.
"The price is fifty million Aurs. Proceed with payment."
He slid several aur cards into the terminal. He had come ready to pay ransom, not for a kill order—but the situation was already far stranger than expected.
He decided to go along.
Moments later, the confirmation screen appeared: Transaction Complete.
He stood, ready to leave, when another message came through on his phone:
"Your daughter has been released."
Valtor froze, staring at the message in disbelief. "Is it that easy?"
Without another word, he left the diner and rushed home.
When he arrived, he found Eryn safe and sound, fast asleep in her room as if nothing had happened. Relief washed over him, though it was tinged with unease.
"What is this 'Six O'Clock' business?" he demanded.
An aide hurried forward with a tablet of reports. "Sir, the Six O'Clock Diner is a front—for the Order of the Cockerel."
Valtor frowned deeply. "The Order of the Cockerel? Since when has the underworld taken an interest in family rivalries?"
No one answered.
The only sound was the quiet hum of the city outside—a world that suddenly seemed far more dangerous and connected than he had imagined.
-----
[The Cosplay Bar]
Coracle stood ready for his next run, his rubber suit fitted, and cockerel mask in place when Liorea and a line of cosplay drones cut him off.
"What now, Liorea? Why must you appear with a line of android cocks to stop me," he asked, annoyed.
She only smirked. "Boss, you're treating your real job like a hobby. Your hobby is now your real pre-occupation. You cannot continue like this."
"I like work and pleasure to mix," Coracle said, pulling at his mask. "If you've got something, spit it out. I'm in a hurry running between gigs."
Liorea's smirk vanished. "Our new aur bank's been hit—again."
Coracle's jaw dropped. "Again? We poured resources into that vault. Upgraded everything. How did they get in?" He slammed a fist against a nearby wall more to vent than to break anything.
"They got away with a hundred million aurs," Liorea said flatly.
"A hundred million?" Coracle barked. "Why was so much aurs left there? Did you not collect from the bank regularly?"
"I collect daily," she shot back. "But that day's takings were exceptional—there was big contract money."
"For who?" Coracle demanded.
"One of them is Garius Zetheris," she answered before continuing, "the other is Valtor Veyran."
Coracle's eyes narrowed. "Someone wants two patriarchs dead? There will be chaos in Melrose city."
Liorea folded her arms. "So, do we honor the contract?"
Coracle chewed his lip, then let out a low chuckle. "We always honor contracts. Whether the cash's gone or not, business is business." He paused, considering.
"Who do we give the contract to?"
"The Rewind sisters," Liorea said. "They still owe you for that botched high school student job. Rewind IX didn't even report back about progress."
Coracle's laugh cracked the air with a sharp, excited sound. "Perfect…though they probably won't succeed."
"Should we send stronger assassins?" Liorea asked.
"Obviously no. Does it matter if they succeed, as long as we did our part. There is no refund for a failure… that is our company's policy… unless they top up… we are already paying this job with our own money", Coracle said.
"I'll get right to it", Liorea replied and smiled, happy to have work to do.
"Finally—time for the real fun," Coracle said before straightening his mask and whips his leather. Then he walked into the room where the customer was waiting.
"Coookaacooocadoo."
-----
"Big Brother, you won't believe it—Shawn Zetheris went to the Six O'Clock Diner before we even asked Valtor Veyran, what are the odds?" Kail said, breathless.
Damen narrowed his eyes. "That is a convenient coincidence. He must've gone to put a price on Valtor's head. That's the kind of cowardly move his family makes."
"Should we tell Valtor to go to the diner now?" Kail asked.
"Yes. And after that we hit the aur bank and take every cent earmarked for those contracts," Damen replied coolly.
"Do you think the assassins will even pull it off? Killing them," Kail pressed.
Damen shrugged. "Not likely. Garius and Valtor are both powerful metas with hardened guards and life-saving rigs. They aren't easy to kill."
Kail frowned. "Then why bother placing the contracts at all?"
Damen let a slow smile spread across his face. "Firstly, this is the only way we can get the ransom money from them without revealing ourselves. Secondly, we need someone to start a fight with Garius Zetheris, then we kill steal at the last minute," He laughed, low and satisfied.
Kail shook his head, "Kill Steal!!! I don't understand."
"You don't have to. Just keep an eye on Garius and Acyros, the Rank B meta."
-----
In the days that followed, the Veyran and Zetheris families plunged into open war.
Their private security forces clashed in the streets, their Meta-humans unleashed destruction across industrial districts and trading ports. Neither side could claim victory—yet both bled heavily from the conflict.
By the end of the week, their businesses lay crippled, and the city's economy lost hundreds of millions of aurs in property damage and halted commerce.
Realizing the conflict could not continue indefinitely, Garius Zetheris and Valtor Veyran agreed—reluctantly—to meet for a truce.
A neutral venue was chosen: the Governor's Palace of Melrose.
----
The marble hall shimmered under the pale morning light, its vaulted ceiling heavy with tension. Guards lined the perimeter, motionless, their visors fixed forward.
At the center stood a long obsidian table, a fault line between two families.
On one side sat Valtor Veyran, his expression cold and unreadable, a glass of untouched wine resting before him.
Opposite him, Garius Zetheris leaned forward, gauntleted hands clasped, his calm mask stretched thin over hatred.
Between them, Vice Governor Faemore forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Gentlemen," Faemore began, his voice careful, "let this be the day your feud ends. Your war is tearing Melrose apart—it benefits no one to continue."
There was silence.
Suddenly, Valtor's voice broke it. "Peace, Faemore… requires trust. Tell me… do you see any in this room? How can we trust the crooked Zetheris?"
Garius's composure snapped.
"Like we can trust you, traitor!"
Before Faemore could speak again, the chandeliers flickered. Guards tensed, scanning the upper balconies. Then the glass shattered.
A single bullet tore across the hall and buried itself in the Vice Governor's chair.
"Down!" a guard shouted, tackling Faemore to the floor.