The skyscrapers of the city stood above the clouds like unmoving steel giants, covering half the heavens, and shadowing half the city. Among them a certain tower stood, from which two enforcers exited the building through the main entrance, their black uniforms absorbing the sunlight.
"Seriously? They're going on another expedition?" The first one spoke in surprise.
"Yeah, dude. I heard this is the biggest one yet." The second one confirmed. "Though, I'm not too sure… the previous expeditions didn't return from beyond the Glades since we discovered the forbidden continent."
"Hey, maybe with this one. The REOC's and AEOC's Special Ops First units are going, are they not? Besides, they have Sir Dante. I'm sure no matter the danger, he can handle it."
Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by their Lieutenant General. They stopped talking as Missio adjusted his collar, striding towards them. The guards tensed up, noticing the insignia on his chest.
"Greetings, Lieutenant General!" Both saluted at the same time.
"Good morning." Missio nodded with a stoic face.
Missio passed them as the glass doors parted in his wake. He entered the lobby and scanned the familiar location.
Everything had become dull to him now, when he first came to the Black ops, he had felt a mixture of awe and separation but now, this place felt… like a cage. However, one thing managed to catch his eye even after all this time.
Above the reception, the portrait of a man with flashy red hair with golden eyes, wearing a toga picta with a laurel wreath atop his head.
Missio's eyes narrowed. He knew the man in the mural well… too well.
Why wouldn't he know? That man was his ancestor after all. The Progenitor of the new Augustus – Romulus Augustus, dubbed 'The Last Monarch of Rome' by the senate and immortalized as Divus Romvlvs by them as well.
He heaved a breath, his lips curling slightly. Marching towards the staircase, he exited the lobby and ascended to the next floor. From there, Missio used a lift to head up the tower. As he waited in the elevator, the quiet atmosphere made his nerves calm down a bit.
After several minutes, he stepped out of the lift and into a long hallway. He paced down the hallway as sunlight seeped through the massive windows that lined the tower. Eventually, he reached a steel door. Unclipping his insignia and scanning it, Missio watched as the door to his office opened with a low hum. He stepped inside and walked towards the desk, sliding his palm along its surface.
Then, he sat down and as he did he felt his body sink into the soft material the chair was made of. Gripping the armrest tighter than he meant to, he pressed play on his Music Box and it sung a calming melody.
"Finally, some rest…" He mumbled under his breath.
He kicked his legs onto the chair and leaned back. Gripping the armrests of his seat, he called out to his AI assistant.
"Hey, Mythos."
Mythos awoke from its slumber, instantly responding to its master.
[Yes, sir?]
"Contact the Prime Minister." Missio ordered.
Mythos responded almost immediately.
[Calling the Prime Minister…]
Missio waited for a few moments, basking in the silence of the room. Until that silence was broken by the voice of the Prime minister.
"Lieutenant General Augustus. Good morning." He yawned.
Missio clicked his tongue. "Sir, what was that voice message you left me?"
"Oh, that? Yes, I discussed it with the Minister of Home affairs last night…" The prime minister coughed. "Haven't slept yet though."
Missio frowned. "Then, tell me how you came to that conclusion?"
The Prime Minister's voice stopped for a moment before Missio heard a dry laugh in his ear.
"Ah, well, where do I begin? Perhaps something that would interest you most? You see, Lieutenant General… Assemblyman Dick Quartel has been acting quite suspicious for a while now… There had been extra cuts from the National budget every year, specifically from him but I never thought anything of it."
He drew a deep breath, opening his throat with a hoarse cough.
"Maybe something had gone wrong on their part or they simply didn't have enough resources but… this year that cut was too large and so… I did a little investigating."
Missio tilted his head, raising a brow.
"Shouldn't you have contacted the Colonel of the Police force? Why me?"
"I could have but I didn't want to because…" The Minister replied. "After a while of digging, I found a massive cut from the National budget…"
The Political powerhouse paused for a moment as if he was wary of the words he was about to say. But at the same time, he knew very well what Missio's reaction would be.
"…from 17 years ago."
Missio's world froze. His eyes widened, a mix of shock and terror swirling in his pupils.
'17…?'
The number repeated in his mind countless times. An anchor of the past that he still hadn't left behind. A memory that he wanted to forget so badly that he would sacrifice anything or anyone.
Missio remained silent for a while. His body's temperature spiked to a dangerous degree. His heart beat rapidly, on the verge of a panic attack. Seizing his chest, he exhaled and managed to control himself. Then, the Lieutenant General of the Black Ops Division spoke in a serious tone.
"Are you absolutely sure?"
The Prime Minister smirked from the other side of the call but Missio was clueless about that.
"Absolutely."
Missio's feet touched the floor. Leaning forward, a dark expression took over his face. He rested his arms and furrowed his brows.
"…I'll send the Police force on this and then… I'll interrogate him…" Missio's voice cracked. "That's shouldn't be a problem, should it, sir?"
"You are correct, Lieutenant General. " The Prime Minister laughed. "Do whatever you please. This matter is now in your hands."
Missio remained silent… for a while.
The public would certainly not stay calm after this. After all, the arrest of a government official was a serious matter, especially within the Pangeocratic government system where such things didn't happen often.
"…Understood." Missio held his head.
"Good. I hope you can bring satisfactory results."
The next moment, the call abruptly ended. The bereft sat in his office – alone like he had always thought he had been. As the words of the Prime Minister kept circling his mind, his frustration began to boil.
That damned number 17 wouldn't let him rest for a few days. Missio was sure of it. The poor soul could already feel his brain throbbing from the thought of it.
Then as the silence began consuming him, his hands trembled as a single word escaped his lips.
"Bastard."