RUBLEVKA, RUSSIA.
In a dimly lit room with several luxurious antiques and noble aesthetics, a lady watched an ongoing stream from her system.
The translucent screen reflected a pale blue light on her face, which if one looked closely enough they would notice the slight curls of her lips.
She swirled the vodka within her glass before taking a small sip of the liquor.
As the stream came to an end, the lady uncrossed her legs which were poised on her desk.
Then she stood up allowing more of her features to become visible in the dim light
The city glowed behind her in fractured lights smeared across the glass in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Inside, the air was warm, touched with the faint curl of smoke that drifted lazily from the cigarette in her hand.
"Puff." She exhaled, then took a slow drag on her cigarette.
The lady had skin so smooth it was almost pale and refined in a way that caught the light in soft gradients, making her complexion take on a porcelain hue.
Her face was sharp in all the right places, with high cheekbones, a clean jawline and a faded shade of green eyes which spoke volumes of authority and the cold detachment of someone who had seen far too much to care.
Her lips were set in a faint neutral line while adjusting the pair of thin round glasses resting against the bridge of her nose.
Her hair was deep black which was gathered loosely into a high, slightly messy bun with strands escaping their binding and falling in a soft disarray around her face and down the nape of her neck.
Though her features were soft, she looked anything but…
Her attire was a black fitted shirt which hugged her frame tightly.
The fabric stretched smoothly across her torso, a dark matte against the light absorbing rather than reflecting the luminous hue. The collar sat open, unbuttoned slightly enough to show her collar bone.
Over it she donned a white coat which hung to her shoulders effortlessly, a stark contrast between black and white colors giving her a mature appeal.
Her lower half was of the same aesthetics.
High waisted white trousers carrying the same sharpness the coat held, the fit wasn't exactly loose or restrictive, rather it seemed to be a perfect balance to her enchanting curves.
Then there were the tattoos, covering both arms with the intricate inkwork depicting a dead dragon on one hand while the other held a skull with a knife passing through it.
A call rang from the dialer within her pocket.
She took a look at it, lingered for a second then smiled.
'What a rather convenient timing.'
As she picked the call, a voice rang from the other side of the receiver.
Hearing her full name being called with such respect, she couldn't help but chuckle mildly at the gesture.
'Is he scared? He must have gotten a visit from father's envoy then.'
"Yes, Zoya speaking. I assume you're calling in regards to the little project I assigned your team right?"
"More time, you say? Exactly how much time do you need?" She asked in a detached, almost bored tone.
From the other side of the receiver, her question was met with silence, it was almost funny.
Despite being so far away, she could almost hear the poor scientist shivering.
Zoya flicked her cigarette against the ashtray then gulped down the vodka.
Her response came in shortly after that.
"Hmmm, six months it is then, but I'll be supervising the project myself and I'll be bringing some of my own people to work with you on it, do not disappoint me."
Zoya chuckled.
"Also… Mikhail, let go of the poor man, you might give him a heart attack."
The voice on the other line of the receiver was quiet for a bit, then a deep gravelly voice sounded.
"Yes… Captain."
Zoya terminated the call, then suddenly started laughing.
It wasn't what you would expect from such a mesmerizing woman.
The laugh… wasn't pleasant at all.
"Ah Alistar, just as I suspected, you know something."
The laughter stopped abruptly.
"Making me go through all this trouble just to find you, I don't think I'll let you off the hook the moment I get you Alistar."
Then she mumbled.
"Well it's not like I can't understand his perspective, I would do the same if I were in his shoes but the question is… how does he still remember the hidden quest, when everyone forgot their progress in the game."
She had already run various scenarios within her head but none was plausible enough as to explain why he remembered and why they didn't.
A sigh left her lips, then she walked over to a cabinet at the side of her office, brought out a pack of cigars then she lit one.
"System."
[Ding! Player Mist, how may I be of assistance?]
"I want you to notify me whenever player Alistar starts his livestreams and if possible, spam him friend requests till he replies."
[Noted!]
[Is that all or will you be needing anything else?]
The familiar robotic voice of the system questioned, devoid of any hint of emotion.
"Hmmm, I wonder?" Zoya replied playfully. "How about setting us up as opponents in the PVP mode."
[PVP mode isn't available yet.]
[Requirement: advance to the fifth floor of the tower of Baphomet to unlock the arcade mode.]
"Ah what a shame, but it's fine, after all six months isn't that much of time."
Her gaze darkened slightly.
"I'll be seeing you soon, Alistar."