Petrov strolled through Kagezan's gleaming hallways, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he muttered, "This is bad… so, so bad."
He pushed open the door to the shared office, stepping into its familiar chaos. His desk was a battlefield of disheveled papers, overflowing folders, and maps marked with cryptic notes. Across the room, Ivan's desk stood in sharp contrast—nearly empty except for an odd collection of candy wrappers and half-finished snacks.
Petrov dropped a thick folder onto his desk with a loud thud, sending loose sheets cascading to the floor. Ignoring the mess, he sank into his chair, flipping open the folder. His sharp eyes scanned the contents—intercepted communications, coded messages, and fragments of forgotten records. One document immediately caught his attention: Noxeum: The Catalyst.
His smirk faltered, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer. The document described Noxeum in cryptic terms—its origins unknown, its potential limitless. The gem was rumored to amplify energy, spark evolution, and bend reality in ways that defied explanation. Yet, every attempt to control it had resulted in failure—uncontrollable mutations, destruction, and death.
Another report in the folder drew his attention. It referenced whispers from one of Venus's potential clients, claiming she held the formula to amplify Noxeum's power. Petrov tapped the page with a finger, his thoughts racing.
"Venus…," he murmured, a chill running down his spine. "She's not just dangerous—she's terrifying."
The fragments of information painted a picture both fascinating and unsettling. For years, Petrov had observed chaotic events in Kyouten that seemed random but too perfectly timed. Organizations crumbled from within, factions turned on each other, and outcomes that seemed natural felt… off.
"She studies people," he muttered, his voice tinged with admiration. "She anticipates their moves, nudges them in just the right way, and lets them destroy themselves."
Petrov leaned back, the weight of his thoughts settling over him. He couldn't prove any of it—his deductions were little more than a hunch. But if anyone could untangle the enigma of Noxeum, it was Venus. And that made her both invaluable and a threat.
..............
Far across the city, inside the sterile, fluorescent-lit labs of the Vanguard Syndicate, Ravik Kane paced impatiently. His boots echoed against the tiled floor as he glared at the rows of scientists working tirelessly. The room reeked of antiseptic and scorched chemicals, the aftermath of another failed experiment.
"We're out of time," Ravik growled, his voice a low snarl. "No more excuses."
One scientist hesitated, clutching a clipboard with trembling hands. "The mutations are… uncontrollable, sir. The subjects—"
"Experiments," Ravik interrupted coldly. "They are experiments. Nothing more."
The scientist swallowed hard and continued, "The experiments show initial promise, but prolonged exposure to Noxeum results in failure. Physical decay, mental instability… death."
Ravik slammed his fist onto a nearby table, sending a beaker crashing to the floor. "Noxeum is the key to everything—power, evolution, control! And you can't figure it out?"
From the shadows, the benefactor—a figure whose mere presence seemed to drain warmth from the room—spoke. "Perhaps it's time to look outward."
Ravik turned sharply. "And what do you suggest?"
The benefactor stepped into the light, his expression calm but unnervingly shrewd. "Venus."
Ravik's jaw tightened. "We've been hunting her for years. She won't sell to us, and she's always ahead."
"That was before," the benefactor said smoothly. "Now, we need her more than ever. If she has the formula—and I believe she does—then desperation will guide her to us. And if not, we'll make her see reason."
Ravik hesitated. He hated admitting the benefactor was right, but the Syndicate's experiments were going nowhere. Noxeum's power was tantalizingly close, yet always out of reach. If Venus truly held the secret, she could be their salvation—or their doom.
..............
In one of Hime's meticulously prepared safehouses—Mars—Berkeley reclined on a worn couch. The apartment was painfully ordinary, nestled in a quiet neighborhood where families lived unassuming lives. Children's laughter echoed faintly through the thin walls, a sound so normal it felt foreign.
Berkeley adjusted his position, wincing as the movement tugged at his healing wounds. Doc's handiwork had been as precise as ever, the stitches clean and the pain manageable. A stack of medical supplies sat on a nearby table, a stark contrast to the normalcy of the room.
"Safehouses," Berkeley muttered, glancing around. "Mars, huh? Always Mars."
Hime had a knack for creating these hideouts—anonymity disguised as ordinariness. Mars was no exception. The neighbors knew him as a quiet tenant recuperating from a work injury. They asked no questions, and Berkeley gave no answers.
He reached for a newspaper lying on the coffee table, skimming the headlines until something caught his eye: Incident at Belcourt Pier. The article was vague, but Berkeley recognized the fingerprints of Hime's handiwork.
"She's still playing with fire," he murmured, a mix of exasperation and admiration in his voice. "Can't help herself, can she?"
Berkeley leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He knew Hime would contact him when the time was right. Until then, all he could do was wait and hope the storm she was conjuring wouldn't blow them all away.
..............
Back at Kagezan, Petrov sifted through the scattered documents on his desk, his smirk returning as he pieced together the puzzle. He tapped a finger on the report referencing Venus's supposed Noxeum formula, his thoughts churning.
"She's playing with fire," he muttered. "But it's the kind of fire that reshapes the world."
..............
Meanwhile, at the Vanguard Syndicate's hidden headquarters, the benefactor gazed out at the city, his expression unreadable. "The storm is inevitable," he murmured. "We either let it consume us… or we ride the wind."
The room fell silent, save for the distant hum of machinery. In that quiet, the benefactor's shrewd smile widened ever so slightly. "And Venus… she'll determine which way it blows."