Year 2050
Month 2
City of Rebirth:
Executive Vice Director Mercier, is it true that NGI16 has shown promise in treating slowing down aging?”
A young reporter asked.
Cole Mercier stood behind a podium emblazoned with his pharmaceutical company’s logo.
Cole adjusted his tie, his violet eyes surveying the crowd
“That’s an exaggeration,” Cole replied.
“NGI16 represents a significant advancement over previous formulations and is a great upgrade over NGI15 however the claims of slowing down aging are beyond our data.”
Another reporter raised her hand. “There are rumors that the military has already placed orders worth billions for NGI16. Can you comment on potential combat applications?”
Cole’s eyes remained cold and in control as he answered. “Mercier Pharmaceuticals develops medical treatments, not weapons. I won’t speculate on how our products might be utilized by third parties.”
Five minutes later, after deflecting questions about ethical concerns, regulatory hurdles, and competitive advantages, Cole’s assistant stepped forward, signaling the conclusion of the press conference.
“That will be all for today. Thank you for your attendance.”
Cole nodded to the assembled journalists and stepped away from the podium.
He was followed closely by a security detail of four men in dark suits.
“The car is ready in the executive garage, sir,” one of the security team informed him.
“Good,” Cole replied. “I have another meeting in thirty minutes.”
They entered the parking garage. The concrete structure was mostly empty; this area was reserved for VIPs and special guests.
Cole was twenty feet from the vehicle when the first shot rang out.
The security guard to his left fell, clenching the bloodied stain that began to spread around his chest.
Cole barely hesitated. Before the second shot had finished echoing through the garage, he was already moving, dropping low behind a concrete pillar as two more guards fell to precision shots.
He had been in the arena like all his siblings and was prepared to react quickly.
“Stay down, young master!” the guard ordered, drawing his sidearm and returning fire.
Shortly after, the last guard fell with a grunt, a bullet catching him in the shoulder. As he dropped to one knee, he slid his gun to Cole before a bullet finished him.
Cole had already begun moving between the vehicles and grabbed the gun along the way. Unlike Dante, who had grown soft in his years away from the Arena, Cole was still battle-ready.
He had been in dangerous situations more than once, having taken on one of the Mercier businesses and gaining his own enemies.
One of the attackers was around a car, with a raised weapon. Cole was ready. He fired at the attacker, aiming at the hand, forcing them to drop the gun. He followed through by shooting into the attacker’s throat. But he did not wait. He quickly moved as he saw a second assailant.
Cole grabbed the injured attacker he had shot and used him as a shield. The second assailant fired twice, hitting Coles new human shield.
Cole responded by also firing twice, catching the attacker in the chest, then ducked as he saw someone had circled around, bullets ricocheting off the car beside him.
“Target is armed!” a woman’s voice called out. “Circle around!”
“Mercier Security Control,” a voice spoke from his watch. “Backup deployed, ETA three minutes.”
Cole couldn’t wait, he needed a way to survive. He rose and fired as he dashed toward a service door, reaching it just as more bullets sprayed the wall beside him.
He crashed through the door and into a stairwell.
...
Mirabella paced across the green carpeted floor of her private study, the silk of her emerald gown clinging to her curves with every step. Her auburn hair had come loose as she paced around in agitation. She moved aside the several strands that were falling across her face as she inhaled and exhaled quickly. Despite her age, she looked incredibly young, the advantage that money and care could bring.
Beep.
Beep.
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The holo communication notifier rang again—the third time in the past five minutes.
“Activate,”
“Any news on my son!” she snapped, her voice filled with rage.
“Don’t worry my lady. He will return unharmed. Mercier security responded quickly. Everything is under control. The situation is contained.”
“What do you mean, ‘situation contained’?” she demanded. “I want details, not calming words!”
“One moment.” the voice told her.
…
…
“We have confirmation, young master Mercier is secure, I repeat young master Mercier is secure, my lady.”
“Is he injured?” Mirabella asked.
“I assure you my lady that the young master had escaped with minor injuries, and that my security team neutralized the remaining attackers, an investigation is in fact already underway.”
“Very well call me back with answers, deactivate!” Mirabella ended the call with a harsh tone and a wave of her hand. Her son—her brilliant, perfect son—attacked in broad daylight.
“Incompetent fools,” she muttered.
She needed to speak with her security team immediately. The manor should be on high alert. She pressed the intercom button on her desk.
Silence.
She pressed it again, harder this time.
Nothing.
Mirabella stormed out of her study,
“Hendricks!” she called out.
No response.
“Hendricks?” she called out again.
…
…
Once again, nothing more than silence answered.
“Anyone?”
The silence in the normally bustling household was unsettling. Mirabella felt cautious as she descended the grand staircase to the main floor.
As she reached the bottom step, she froze.
In her formal drawing room, sprawled across her antique chaise lounge, sat Katarina Mercier.
She was dressed in a black dress that clung to her curves like a second skin, similar to what she wore in the family gathering.
The high slit revealed the length of her leg as she sat with one leg draped gracefully over the other.
Touching her lip gently with her metal clawed talon as she sipped from a delicate teacup in her other hand.
Under her knelt a burly security guard, her living chair.
“Hendricks?” Mirabella asked as she saw her personal guard acting as Katarina’s chair, his uniform ripped in certain places and lines of blood one parts of his body as if he was attacked my small knives.
Behind Katarina stood Marie, Mirabella’s personal maid, dutifully massaging the Mercier daughter’s shoulders while another servant refilled the tea.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mirabella demanded, her voice shaking with rage. “How dare you enter my home uninvited!”
Katarina’s ocean blue eyes stared at the woman lazily, a predatory smile curving her black-painted lips. “Mirabella, you don’t look a day over twenty haha.” she laughed her laughter as sweet as always.
“Do join me.” She patted the cushioned chair beside her. “Your staff makes such delightful tea.”
“Get out! Where are my other guards? Hendricks get up!”
Katarina continued sipping her tea. “Shh, they are asleep. They work so very hard.”
Mirabella trembled with fury. “What are you—”
Katarina brought up a finger to her own lips.
“Hush.” she said quietly, yet firmly.
“I have every right to be here,” Katarina cut in, her voice suddenly cold. “I’m here to remind you of your place, dear Mirabella. I’ve tolerated the bullying of my little brother Dante. I’ve even found it amusing at times. But a direct assassination attempt?” She clicked her tongue. “That was too much.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mirabella sputtered.
Katarina rose, handing her teacup to the maid.
“Don’t play innocent with me,” she said, getting closer to Mirabella.
You’ve always been so undeservingly ambitious.”
“You’re insane,” Mirabella took a step back. “My son was just attacked—”
“Yes,” Katarina’s smile widened.
“But don’t worry I didn’t send anything that my brother couldn’t handle, he is far more competent than you are, after all he is a Mercier.”
Mirabella’s eyes widened. “You... you ordered the attack on Cole?”
“Of course I did, haha,” Katarina laughed.
“Did you think you were the only one who could play that game?”
“You bitch!” Mirabella lunged forward, but Katarina caught her by the throat with her unclawed hand, pressing her fingernails into Mirabella’s soft flesh.
“Careful, Mirabella,” Katarina whispered.
“My father may tolerate you, but I’m not nearly so generous.”
The security guard who had been acting as Katarina’s footstool rose, charging at Katarina’s backside.
With her free hand, Katarina quickly turned, extending one metal-tipped finger and slashed it across his throat. Blood sprayed across the floor, his hands clutching futilely at the wound. Katarina moved her head aside as some of the blood squirted pass, missing her and hitting Mirabella’s face. Katarina then raised one of her legs and kicked the guard onto the ground.
Mirabella stood frozen, her face pale with shock.
“Do you understand now?” Katarina asked, turning back to her. “Never forget that this is a Mercier. Even Samantha, the most pacifistic of us, was taught to kill before she could drive. We all went through the Arena. We all bear its mark.”
She stepped closer to Mirabella, who was now backed against the wall.
“You fancy yourself a player in our game,” Katarina continued, “but you’re barely a pawn. Touch Dante again, and next time, I’ll come after you.”
Katarina bent down and dipped her finger in the dead guard’s open throat. She then raised her finger and deliberately traced the crimson liquid across her lips like lipstick.
Before Mirabella could react, Katarina seized her face and pressed their lips together in a mocking kiss, smearing the blood between them.
When she pulled away, Mirabella’s lips and chin were stained red, her eyes wide with terror.
“Ahahahaha,” Katarina laughed as she watched Mirabella’s reaction.
“Clean yourself up, darling. You look a mess.” She stepped back, wiping her mouth delicately with a lace handkerchief.
Katarina strode off the door closing behind her with a soft click, leaving Mirabella standing amid the ruins of her authority, and the taste of blood mixed with the bitterness of defeat on her lips.
She sat down and turned her head slightly.
A scream erupted from the closed manor as Katarina walked out.
“Oh dear I guess she learned that she will need some new guards after today. Hehe,” Katarina giggled.
“Maybe I should have left some of them alive.”
“Hmm hmm, Dante Dante Dante, I can't wait until you're out of the arena I want to see what you become.” Katarina left a cheerful skip in her step.
