Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Mission 10: High Society ( Chapter 17 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only for fun, no monies are being made.

-+-

Alphonse Drouet had just opened his locker to change out of his gear when someone approached him from behind.

“Al, buddy! What's going on?” Nassas Reine asked in that overly-annoying-and-optimistic tone of his, and simultaneously slapped his hand down on Drouet's right shoulder. Drouet sucked in a tight breath; Nassas had managed to hit him right on an injury. An injury he'd incurred two weeks ago at the hands of a Taydran assassin on a mission that was off-the-books. So he had to pretend he was completely fine, and suppress the urge to punch his irritating comrade in the face.

Luckily, Reine didn't hold onto Drouet's shoulder very long. Nassas stepped to the side to get a better look at his friend. “Haven't seen you in a few weeks; have you done anything fun?” Nassas asked cheerily.

“Not really. I had a mission handed down from Admiral Malketh,” Drouet replied. He knew that the easiest lies to tell were the ones that had some truth in them, because it would be easier to remember later on. He turned to face Nassas. “Had to rescue these three activists, kids really,” Alphonse explained, “who'd crossed into some bad territory in the Republic. They were picked up by pirates, so we had to board their ship and get them out there. These kids were so freaked out, we had to give them some meds to calm down on the way back,” he finished with a slight laugh.

“Everyone make it out okay?” Reine asked in earnest.

“Yeah everybody's fine,” Drouet replied, knowing that Reine was mostly referring to the team that he led. Drouet started unbuttoning his shirt and turned back toward his locker.

“Good,” Nassas replied in relief. His expression changed and he crossed his arms over his chest. “I still think that's crap though, I mean, why do we have to take orders from the navy?” he asked, clearly perturbed.

Drouet shrugged, and had to keep from wincing because the action caused quite a bit of pain. “I don't know, I just follow orders,” he added, hoping that Reine would get bored with the conversation and leave him alone.

Reine scoffed and shot Drouet a sympathetic smile, “Don't we all.”

Just then, a tall, middle-aged Taydran man wearing a mostly-black military uniform walked into the armory. “Reine,” he barked out, “I've got something for you.”

Both Nassas and Alphonse turned to see their unit leader, Commander Tresia standing a few meters away. “Uh, yes sir,” Reine replied and approached the commander.

Tresia adjusted his glasses before handing Nassas the tablet he was carrying. “We've got orders from the top, so this is a high priority,” he began.

“Whoa,” Reine said after looking over the information briefly, “these are the same mercs I ran into a while back.”

Drouet had been present for that operation and knew exactly who Nassas was talking about. He turned toward the pair and took a few steps toward them. “Sir, I'd like to take this mission—” Drouet began.

“No,” Tresia cut him off. “I have something else I need you and the other members of Zettei squad on,” the commander explained in that terse, direct manner he often used.

Drouet inwardly grimaced. If this was about the mercenaries, shouldn't Admiral Malketh have requested him and his team? Why was Reine getting this assignment? The mercenaries had already seen his face, so what good could he be?

“I don't understand sir,” Reine shook his head and looked up from the tablet. “I've already worked in close proximity to the targets, they'll recognize me in a heartbeat,” he stated, the confusion on his face evident in his tone of voice. Alphonse hoped that Reine's objection might get through and give him the opportunity to take on whatever the mission was.

Commander Tresia took the tablet back from Reine's hands. “Walk with me,” he said and immediately turned, heading out of the armory. Reine quickly fell into step behind him, leaving Drouet in the armory wondering what was going on. He watched them leave and made a mental note to talk to the admiral about it.

Nassas followed his commanding officer all the way back to Tresia's office, where the Taydran Special Intelligence Agency Deputy Director took a seat behind his desk. Nassas followed suit and sat down in one of the chairs opposite the commander, who then brought up a holographic display on top of his desk.

“These orders came down from the Office of the Emperor,” Tresia began, his face stern. “You can't fail me, Reine.”

Nassas wasn't shy about showing his concern. “All the more reason I don't understand sir,” he explained.

Tresia clicked a few buttons on the keyboard at his desk and the holographic display showed a dossier of information to Reine. “You won't be approaching the mercenaries. Not directly,” the commander quickly amended. The display changed, showing a picture of the two mercenaries in a vehicle with the roof missing, along with a woman with black hair and red eyes in the back seat, holding a sniper rifle. “We have new intelligence that shows that the mercenaries are now working with another mercenary, one that we've had our eye on for some time.”

The display changed again, this time to a dossier on the woman in the back seat of the vehicle. Reine thought she looked familiar in the first image, but when the full dossier came up with a more 'normal' picture of her, he instantly knew who she was. “Laiserta?” Nassas said, blinking in shock. “I thought she worked alone?” he asked dumbly.

“No, that's incorrect,” Tresia quickly replied. “Her earliest days in operation, she worked with a team based here in Hrimth. So this behavior isn't completely unexpected.”

Reine thought for a moment, when suddenly all of the dots connected in his mind. His face lit up and he looked back up at the commander. “She was part of your team, wasn't she?” Tresia's stony visage gave nothing away, but Nassas knew he was right. He laughed. “That's why your name is inside her name, backwards,” he stated more to himself than Tresia. “'Tresia,' three syllables, third syllable of 'Kikulade' is 'la,' take your name backwards and stick in between those letters and you get Laiserta,” he finished. Nassas shot a smirk at the commander, “You must have made a hell of an impression on her. I'd heard that she was part of your undercover unit but I didn't think it was true, she doesn't operate like a military woman. Makes sense if she was part of the group that was deceived by you,” he laughed. “Still, she turned out to be awesome. I mean, the assassinations of all of those high profile docs in prison? And all by herself? Especially what she did at Villa Purgatorio, that was crazy!” Reine barely paused to take a breath. “Not to mention that she's got an honorary guild name, 'Death's Shadow,' are you kidding me? They don't give anyone the word 'death' in their name unless they're a certifiable badass, let alone someone who hasn't officially joined! And that's not even talking about her sharpshooting skills—”

“Reine,” Tresia growled, effectively cutting off his subordinate's rambling.

Nassas nearly blushed, and laughed nervously. “Eheh, guess I got carried away, huh?” He looked up at the commander rather sheepishly, silently wishing he could disappear into the chair he was sitting in.

“Anyway,” Tresia said sternly with a warning gaze, “you're going to get close to her. Gain her trust, and find the location of where the mercenaries are staying. Once we have that, we'll plan an operation to take their headquarters.”

“No offense sir, but I see a couple of problems with that plan,” Reine started. “How am I gonna get to her while avoiding the other two? And second, how am I going to get her to trust me?” He wasn't against the concept of the operation, but it needed more... finesse if it was going to succeed, in Nassas's opinion.

“We'll lure her out, separate her from the others,” Tresia replied. “That will give you the chance to approach her. From there, it will be up to you to get the information we need.”

Nassas seemed to think for a moment before he spoke. “How do you plan on doing that?”

Tresia looked down at the dossier displayed on the hologram in front of him, and studied the picture of the woman in question. “By offering up an opportunity that she cannot resist.”

-+-

Ill umination

Mission 10: High Society

-+-

Sweat slowly ran down the bridge of his nose, but Trunks ignored the slight itch. He had to stay focused; he couldn't move until the time was right. He was in the zone, and this time he was determined to win.

Armada crouched slightly before charging at him with a blinding speed. Fortunately for Trunks, he'd started to grow accustomed to how much faster she was than him when they sparred inside the Minovsky field. She tried to strike him with her palm in the abdomen but he was able to step back and block her first strike. She threw several more in succession, driving forward while he stepped back, but she failed to land a hit. Trunks waited for the specific strike he suspected she would use. He had devised a strategy to take her down when she made her move, he just needed enough space to take enough steps back in the cargo bay before he ran out of room. But he knew Armada was aggressive, so it wouldn't take long for her to go for the kill.

Armada didn't disappoint; she took a half step forward and threw a fake punch with her left hand. He deflected it and prepared to step forward to catch the right elbow she was about to jam at him. She did as he expected, turning her body and stepping into the space between them with her elbow aimed at the center of his chest. Trunks moved forward and caught her arm with both hands. With no hesitation, he immediately swiped at her feet with his left foot. She jumped back slightly to avoid the hit, which left her unbalanced, just as he'd planned. He released her right arm and threw an uppercut with his left fist.

Trunks's punch connected with her abdomen, and as soon as it did the two mercenaries stopped fighting. Armada let out a breath as she stood upright. “Nice work,” she said before she wiped at her mouth.

Trunks let out a breathy laugh. “I had to get at least one today,” he teased with a smirk.

“I think that's enough for now,” Armada said before turning and moving toward the Minovsky generator.

“I'm not done,” Trunks broke in, hoping to stop her.

She turned back around and gave him a curious look. “You don't need to push yourself,” Armada stated bluntly. “This isn't about building your endurance, it's about teaching you technique. Once you hit a certain level of fatigue, working beyond that doesn't help because you're too exhausted and you get sloppy.”

Trunks's face showed his displeasure, and he shifted his weight where he stood. He tried to think of something to say to counter Armada, but nothing came to mind. Instead he ran his left hand up and over the top of his head; his hair was tied back so it wouldn't fall into his face, but the habit of brushing it back remained.

It was only five days ago that Trunks attended Quarry's funeral, and his mood was still sour. He'd asked Armada to train more, and she obliged. Whether she sensed his feelings or not, Trunks didn't care. He just needed something to focus on so he didn't sit around and stew over his own guilt. Besides that, sparring with her was the first time in many years that he'd had an opportunity to really test his skills, and despite how much better at it she was than him, he found that it was immensely satisfying. He chalked it up to the Saiyan blood in his veins, begging for a battle.

Armada powered off the Minovsky field and Trunks instantly felt renewed when his energy returned to him. If only we could keep going, he thought. It was a shame they had to keep their energy concealed. If they fought at full strength, scanners in the city of Ute would pick up their energy and draw all kinds of unwanted attention. Then again, it wasn't as if they really had proper space to train at that level without accidentally demolishing something.

The pair walked upstairs and were both headed through the lounge when Laiserta stopped them. “Hey,” she started, catching their attention. “I've got something good,” she nearly sang in an excited tone.

The trio gathered in the bridge where Laiserta sat in the pilot's seat and brought up a dossier on the main console. “Rickel Luunalt,” she began as a middle-aged man's face was splashed across the main monitor. “Notorious weapons dealer based out of LOKI. Coincidentally, that's who wants us to get him, the government of LOKI,” Laiserta began.

Trunks studied Luunalt's photo. He reminded Trunks of Lowell; the arms dealer had the same jawline and the same wrinkles across his forehead as the professor. Luunalt, however, had short salt-and-pepper hair with gray eyes. “For the cool price of one million betas, LOKI is requesting he be returned, unharmed, to stand trial for a whole bunch of crap he did within their borders,” Laiserta explained animatedly.

“So he's hiding out in the Republic,” Armada stated. Laiserta thought it was a question at first, until she remembered who she was talking to.

“Yep,” Laiserta replied. “If LOKI goes in officially, it can set off a diplomatic incident with the Republic. But if they hire a couple of mercenaries,” Laiserta trailed off.

“They can always deny it,” Trunks jumped in, both of his comrades shooting him glances that appeared to be somewhat impressed. “That way they avoid the messiness of violating another nation's sovereignty to go after a criminal,” he finished.

“Very astute, wonder boy,” Laiserta smiled broadly at Trunks. “I'm impressed.”

“So where's this guy holed up?” Trunks asked, unfazed by Laiserta's comment.

“Somewhere in the southeastern Republic, we don't have a clue,” she quickly answered. “But,” she started, “like all rich criminal assholes, he has a hard time laying low. He's got a big party scheduled eight days from now at a mansion in Damas, a city on Farleh.” She paused a moment before adding, “That's a planet in the Republic.”

“Thanks,” Trunks deadpanned. There was still much he didn't know about the universe, but sometimes the explanations got old. And annoying.

“So we grab him when he's at the party because that's the only time we'll know where he is,” Armada surmised. She was holding her right hand in a fist in front of her mouth, something she often did when she was thinking. “Tell them we'll take the job,” she spoke after a moment of silence. “Start the ship in that general direction. Find all the intel you can on the location, and an hour from now we'll start planning the operation,” Armada ordered. She turned and left the bridge, headed for her room.

-+-

Two hours later, the mercenaries sat around the table in the lounge, a tablet in the center between them as they hatched their plan. “I got some high res images,” Laiserta began, and loaded up a file of photos on the tablet. Armada studied each image carefully before moving on to the next one.

“Not a large facility, but decent space around it,” Armada summarized what she saw in front of her. “It should be easy enough to conceal the ship nearby and go in on foot.” She reached for the tablet again when Laiserta stopped her.

“Wait a second,” Laiserta said and picked up the tablet. “Something's funny about this image,” she said, looking at one of the aerial photos. She flipped through a few images quickly before she found what she was looking for. She snapped her fingers when she found it. “Damnit I hate it when I'm right,” she said, setting the tablet down between them again. Trunks looked at the image, and it appeared to be the same aerial view as the others, but there was a large green sphere surrounding the building.

“It's a Minovsky field,” Laiserta explained. “Only certain imagery can capture it like this, but I could see the distortion in the other images.”

“It's not surprising, considering the company men like Luunalt keep,” Armada said plainly. She brought her gaze up and looked her comrades in the eyes. “You two will go in as guests and provide both intel and cover for me on the floor, including the location of the target,” she began. “If you can lead him up to the southern balcony on the second floor,” she said, pointing at the satellite image of the mansion, “I can prepare an ambush and wait for him to arrive. From here, we should have a clear trip back to the ship once we make it outside of the Minovsky field.”

“No, that's not going to work,” Laiserta said, shaking her head. “I'll take point and wait for the ambush, and you two will go into the party undercover.”

Armada's eyes narrowed at Laiserta. “Laiserta, this isn't up for debate,” she spat, clearly frustrated by her comrade's insubordination to her orders.

“No, you don't understand,” Laiserta stressed her words, her gaze equally irritated. “Running point is the only thing that I can do on this job,” she cryptically explained. Trunks watched the women argue, confused as to what the real problem was.

“Damnit Laiserta, don't argue with me on this!” Armada shouted, now getting angry.

Laiserta spared a quick glance at Trunks before turning her attention back to Armada. Saying nothing, she pulled the black glove off of her right hand. With the glove removed, she held up her hand. Trunks's eyes widened, and Armada was equally taken aback.

The back of Laiserta's hand was covered in scars. Surgical scars, Trunks thought as he quickly realized the pattern of intersecting lines. Roughly half of the surface of her hand was scarred tissue. She turned her hand around and formed a fist, and when she did Trunks could see that the palm of her hand was just as scarred up as the back.

“I can't go to a fancy soiree wearing something that covers me from the neck down, it's too suspicious” Laiserta explained, her tone strong but not a yell. “I also can't walk in there looking like this,” she said, opening her fist and motioning with her hand. “So,” she stated methodically, “I will take point and capture Luunalt while you two work the floor. Otherwise, I can't help you,” she finished, her tone somewhat bitter.

Armada was quiet for a few seconds before responding. “Fair enough,” she finally said, and Laiserta put her glove back on. Trunks realized that Laiserta's scarring must have been from when the synthetic muscles were implanted inside of her. But if that was done when she was a child, why was she still so scarred up? Armada had taken arguably worse hits, and she wasn't wearing a bunch of nasty scars. Trunks knew that wasn't the time to ask about it, and mentally filed away the question for a later time.

“I'll get us an invite to the party,” Armada spoke, gathering everyone's attention back to the planning session. “I'll pose as a client looking to outfit a small mercenary group. That will give me an excuse to approach Luunalt,” she continued. “I'll lead him to your location Laiserta, and you can subdue him.” Laiserta nodded, and Armada turned her gaze toward Trunks. “You'll be my bodyguard,” she explained. “It's a good excuse for you to be watching me when I'm walking with the target.”

“I think we have the rough makings of a plan,” Laiserta said and stood up, speaking like her normal, jovial self.

“Once I get the invite, we can coordinate exactly what equipment we'll need to take,” Armada said, looking at Trunks specifically.

“Equipment?” he asked. “I would have thought we couldn't go in with weapons.”

“You can't,” Laiserta answered. “She means your outfit,” she added with a smirk before walking away.

-+-

“We have a problem,” Armada announced when she walked into the lounge where her comrades sat at the table, eating their dinner.

“What's up?” Trunks asked. Laiserta merely looked up at Armada while she finished chewing.

“I was able to secure an invitation to Luunalt's party using an alias,” she began, “but the invite indicates that it's a Milanese ball.”

“Ooh,” Laiserta said with a cringe.

Trunks glanced at her before turning his attention back to Armada. “What's the problem?” he asked, now starting to become worried.

“A Milanese ball is very traditional,” Laiserta cut in before Armada could respond. “I can guess that she probably knows a few Milanese ballroom dances to get by, but I'm willing to bet that you don't know any,” she finished, her tone serious.

Trunks sighed. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “So now what?” They still had time, as they had only left for Farleh yesterday and still had almost a week before they arrived and about half a day before the party once they landed. Trunks figured they would have to change their plan to something else.

“I need you on the floor with me inside the party,” Armada stated bluntly. “Since I'll be interacting with Luunalt, and Laiserta will be busy watching the perimeter from her position, you'll be the only set of eyes we have inside to watch security.”

“Yeah but I'm gonna be your bodyguard, right?” Trunks asked. “So I wouldn't be expected to dance with you or anyone else, right?"

“No,” Armada replied flatly.

“It's disrespectful to bring someone who doesn't know any of the dances,” Laiserta cut in. “People are supposed to dance with people they don't know—it's a way to mingle. So if someone approaches you to dance and you say you can't because you don't know, it's going to draw a whole lot of attention.”

“And we don't need the added scrutiny,” Trunks finished answering his own question. He feared what was going to be said next, but he already knew where this was going.

“I'll teach you a few basic dances you can use to get by, if you're cornered and you don't have any choice,” Armada explained. “Obviously, do your best to avoid getting pulled onto the dance floor, but we can't leave anything to chance. The mansion will be heavily guarded and we're going in unarmed, in a Minovsky field. There's not much room for error,” she finished.

Laiserta started laughing, and Trunks turned his gaze toward her. “This is going to be hysterical,” she said with a smirk.

-+-

“This is so boring, I'm out of here.”

Laiserta hopped down from the metal crate she was sitting on and headed for the stairs. She had followed her comrades down to the cargo bay to watch Armada teach Trunks how to dance thinking it would be prime entertainment for the evening. Instead it was incredibly boring, and forty minutes in she had given up on anything remotely amusing happening. “Later!” she called out over her shoulder as she trudged upstairs, deciding that the inside of her eyelids was much more fascinating than what was happening downstairs.

Trunks let out a frustrated breath. Armada was still trying to teach him the steps to one dance, and he was having a very hard time getting a grasp on the movements. “You're over-thinking this,” Armada said, regarding him with a stern look.

“Yeah well there are fifteen steps to start, that's a lot to think about,” Trunks bit back, his frustration at his own inability to catch on both shortening his fuse. Even with Armada, he usually had some measure of patience. But he'd lost most of it in the last forty minutes they'd been working at this.

“Here,” Armada said and stepped forward to Trunks and grabbed both of his hands. She put his right hand on her left shoulder, and then set her hand on his shoulder. With her right hand, she held his left hand up, palm pressed against his palm until he complied and held his hand steady. “Think of it as a fight,” she started. “The goal isn't to hit each other; the goal is to stay in step together and the first one who falls out of step first, loses.” She hoped that perhaps making it a competition for him might help him focus. His head hadn't been in it since they'd started almost an hour ago.

Trunks tried to follow along with what Armada had proposed. It was difficult, and he still made mistakes, but it had helped quell his frustration somewhat. Whereas Laiserta thought that Armada teaching him to dance would be funny, probably because she thought it would be awkward between the two of them, the reality was different. Armada was stone; trying to learn to dance from her was difficult because it was so counter to what Trunks thought dancing was supposed to be. Not that he'd ever really danced with someone like this, but he thought it would be more like moving with a partner. Instead he was memorizing steps and trying to stay within a rigid box, and lead someone along who didn't need or want to be led.

An hour and a half later, the two of them called it quits. Armada explained that she needed to teach him three more dances, as each was appropriate for a specific tempo of music. Trunks was tired and annoyed by the time he'd retreated to his room. This was a lot of preparation for a slight possibility of something happening during the job, but Laiserta was equally concerned. So perhaps it was something he just didn't understand, and he'd need to defer to their opinion on the matter.

-+-

The mercenarie s had finally made it to Farleh earlier in the day. Laiserta landed the ship in a remote location, though not far from the mansion where Luunalt was holding his party. Now that night had fallen, the plan was for Trunks and Armada to fly into the nearby city and rent a vehicle, then drive out to the mansion. Trunks was wearing a black suit with a white button down shirt and tie underneath his jacket. When Laiserta had recently dragged him shopping, she'd picked it out. It didn't fit really nicely across the back of his shoulders, but otherwise it was right on. Another benefit of her enhanced eyesight, he supposed.

Trunks was standing in the bridge, his back toward the hallway behind him. “You ready to go?” he heard Armada ask as her footsteps approached.

He turned around to face her. “Yeah,” he replied, a little shocked at her appearance. She was wearing a strapless off-white gown that had some kind of gold lace all over it, gloves that were the same off-white color and a gold scarf that sat across her back and hung on the inside corner of her elbows. She had pulled her hair back into a bun, including her distinctive bangs. She almost looked like a different person, except she still had the same cold, dark blue eyes.

They were about to leave, since their departure didn't need to coincide with Laiserta's, but their Taydran comrade stopped them anyway when she approached from the barracks. She was wearing her active camouflage gear, her glasses missing from her face and her black hair pulled back into a long braid. Her expression appeared to be jovial until Armada turned to face her.

“I can't believe you two,” Laiserta spat, clearly agitated. Trunks and Armada exchanged confused glances before turning their attention back to Laiserta. “You're wearing a blue tie,” Laiserta began and pointed at Trunks, “and that doesn't match a single thing that she's wearing.”

“Would a bodyguard worry about something like that?” Trunks asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Laiserta shouted emphatically. “Yes! Oh my god I know you don't know anything but you,” she turned toward Armada, “should definitely know better.” She paused a moment when something suddenly came to her. “And you're not wearing any makeup,” Laiserta said, her eyebrows narrowing in concern. Armada shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Laiserta cut her off. “Are you two trying to get us all killed?” she demanded. “Come here,” she said and grabbed one of Armada's hands, dragging her off back toward the barracks.

Several minutes later, the two mercenaries returned to the bridge, Laiserta leading the way. She held out a black tie to Trunks. “Here, use this instead,” she ordered. “You don't have anything that matches her colors so you should just go neutral.”

Trunks took the tie from her hand and slowly untied the one he was wearing, preparing to don the new tie. No sooner had he pulled the blue tie down from around his neck, he looked up at Armada and couldn't help the shock that crossed his face. “Whoa,” he said without thinking. Apparently Laiserta had painted some makeup onto Armada's face; it was mostly around her eyes, and it wasn't too severe, but it was certainly a change from how Trunks had ever seen her.

“Yeah,” Armada sighed and nearly rolled her eyes. Clearly she wasn't pleased.

Trunks started to struggle with the new tie, so Laiserta stepped over to him and pushed his hands aside, taking the tie in her hands and finishing the job. “You two are hopeless, really,” she said while she worked. “What would you do without me?” she asked, flashing Trunks a smile as she finished with the tie. “There, done,” she said and gave him a pat on the chest.

“Now,” Laiserta glanced between her two comrades. “Let's get this show on the road.”

-+-

It hadn't taken long for Trunks and Armada to fly to the city of Damas and walk to the car rental location they had picked out before hand. Once they had their vehicle, Armada drove them to the mansion. They didn't have much choice as the car was quite different from the one Trunks had driven on Bmyhad, and the traffic rules were different. When they had arrived and dropped off the car with the valet, they walked side-by-side up the stairs to the front of the home.

“Lai can you hear me?” Armada asked lowly as she reached the top of the steps.

“Loud and clear,” Trunks heard Laiserta reply over their radio. “I can see you two approaching the entrance,” she added.

“Are you in position?” Armada followed up.

“Ready to go,” Laiserta replied.

Trunks spared another glance to Armada, who walked at his right side, and she glanced back just as they reached the front doors to the mansion. A line was forming as the guests checked in with security, so the mercenaries fell into line behind the other guests. Trunks reached into his right jacket pocket and pulled out a small tablet, which he then handed to Armada. When it was their turn, Armada handed the tablet to the security guard standing to her right. He connected a smaller device to the tablet and it beeped in response. He nodded to the pair and they headed inside.

The inside of the mansion was impressive to put it mildly. Trunks made sure to show no surprise on his face, but he couldn't help but glance around at the ornate designs on several large pillars that ran up to the ceiling in the foyer. A man that appeared to be waitstaff and not security was waiting at the back of the foyer in front of a large set of decorative doors. He directed the mercenaries down a side hallway, away from those particular doors.

Trunks and Armada followed the other guests down two more hallways until they had finally reached the ballroom. The ballroom was huge; Trunks wondered how all of this fit inside of one home. Everything before him was in rich gold tones, from the tiled floor, up the walls and to the ceiling and the chandeliers providing light. Scanning the room quickly, Trunks realized that Laiserta and Armada weren't wrong about what the event would be like; everyone wore luxurious clothing in an attempt to match the elegance of the location.

Armada stepped forward first, and Trunks almost stuttered when he turned his attention back to her and moved to keep up. “Have you seen Luunalt yet?” Armada asked, not bothering to look at him.

Trunks knew not to respond because his comrade wasn't talking to him. “No,” Laiserta answered over the radio in his right ear. “I think he's in there with you guys but I haven't had time to check out everyone's faces.”

The pair moved forward to get out of the way of other guests entering and exiting the ballroom through the entrance behind them. There was a large group of people dancing in the center of the ballroom, and tables around the edges of the room where others sat and had drinks. At least that gave Trunks an out; he could get a drink from one of the bars on either side of the ballroom and stand behind the tables. It would be a good barrier to keep him out of trouble. While he and Armada had practiced the whole week it had taken them to travel to Farleh, he wasn't confident in his dancing abilities.

Armada started heading for the south end of the ballroom, where a large staircase on one end of the room led up to a balcony lining the room. Their goal was to get Luunalt up there and toward one balcony in particular, where Laiserta was hiding in the rafters, so it made sense to start looking for him on that side of the room. They hadn't made it very far when someone stopped them.

“Vesper Renais,” a middle-aged man spoke as he made his way through the crowd from the mercenaries' right. Trunks stopped and turned to see Rickel Luunalt approach them. That was easy, Trunks thought. “I was pleased to hear that you accepted my invitation,” Luunalt said with a smile, holding out his right hand toward Armada.

Armada's eyes narrowed as she smiled back at Luunalt. “I was glad that I was invited,” she said, taking his hand in hers and shaking it. “I've wanted to discuss a business opportunity with you for some time now,” she added, her voice even and smooth.

Watching her put on the act, Trunks was shocked. She couldn't hide the hard gaze she held, and he was certain they were about to be busted. Instead, Luunalt made small chat briefly with the mercenary while Trunks watched. He was even more shocked that neither Luunalt, nor any of the security guards who were watching from the edges of the room, could recognize Armada's predatory gaze. Not that he wanted to be caught, but he quickly developed a low opinion of whoever Luunalt had hired for his security staff.

“I hope the trip from LOKI wasn't too onerous,” Luunalt said as Trunks decided to tune back into the conversation between his partner and their target.

“Not at all,” Armada replied. “The Republic has its merits,” she added with a smirk.

“Anyway,” Luunalt began and cleared his throat, “I understand the infamous Vesper Renais did not travel all of this way for a simple party. Walk with me; we can talk about how I can help fulfill your organization's needs,” he said with a nod of his head. Armada stepped toward him and the pair walked together, with Luunalt leading the way.

“I think she's going to head your way now,” Trunks said lowly to himself once his comrade and Luunalt were out of earshot.

“Looks that way,” Laiserta replied. “Hey, there's a bar against the wall behind you,” she continued. “Go over there, and you should have a good view of the inside balcony if she can get him up those steps.”

Trunks turned and saw the bar that his comrade was referring to, and then headed that way. As he walked, he could pick up Armada's half of her conversation with Luunalt. He listened absentmindedly; it wasn't important what she was saying to him, as long as she kept him walking with her toward Laiserta. When Trunks made his way through the crowd to the bar, he ordered a drink. He didn't plan to actually drink, but if he was holding a drink he might look a little more casual and blend in better. That was his plan, anyway.

Luunalt led Armada away from the majority of the crowd in the ballroom, and they appeared to be destined for a courtyard just outside the ballroom, underneath the balcony that she needed to lead him to. Armada stopped walking and Luunalt followed suit. They had been discussing what 'Vesper Renai' needed but only in very vague terms. That left her an opening and she needed to seize it if she was going to get him upstairs.

“I need to talk very specific numbers,” she said flatly, and Rickel raised his eyebrows in response. “My men have had too many altercations with federal police lately. We need everything to match them, and more, and I was told that you're the man work with,” she explained, and paused for a moment to let her words sink in. “I think we need to go somewhere a little more,” she made a show of glancing around the ballroom before she finished, “private so that we can discuss the details properly.” Another thought struck her so she added, “I've already set aside funds for this particular project.” If nothing else, Armada hoped that dangling money in front of him with the promise of a sale of weapons would get him moving in the right direction.

“Straight to the heart of the matter,” Luunalt replied with a smile and a slight laugh. He looked briefly out into the courtyard, and noticed a decent amount of guests standing in the outdoor area. He turned back to Armada and let out a breath. “Let's head upstairs, to my office. We'll have privacy to discuss everything in detail to your satisfaction,” he answered. “It's up the stairs behind you,” he said and nodded his head in that direction.

From where he stood across the ballroom, Trunks could see his partner and their target begin walking toward the large staircase along the southern edge of the building. “They're headed for the stairs,” Laiserta called out over the radio.

“I see them,” Trunks said, holding his glass up to his mouth to disguise that he was talking to himself. He feigned taking a drink on the off-chance that anyone was watching. Just as he watched his comrade and Luunalt begin to ascend the staircase, someone pulled on his right arm.

“Hello,” a woman with dark brown hair and red skin greeted Trunks, her left hand still clinging onto his right arm. Trunks cursed himself for not noticing the woman approach, though admittedly from his position he'd been focused on where Armada was off in the distance to his left and hadn't been watching anything to his right.

“Hi,” Trunks replied awkwardly, hoping to find some way out of this. This was really bad timing; once Armada got Luunalt into position and Laiserta subdued him, Trunks needed to leave off of that same balcony where Laiserta waited with both of his comrades. He didn't have time to chit-chat with any of the other guests.

“W-would you like to dance?” the woman asked, her eyes lighting up. Trunks wasn't sure if she was just nervous, or if her stutter was the result of drinking. Her skin was the shade of a tomato and she had long, pointed ears that kind of reminded him of Piccolo. Regardless, he needed to quash this now before it turned into a bigger deal.

“No, thank you, I'm afraid I'm waiting for someone,” Trunks replied a little more smoothly, hoping that his answer was delivered diplomatically enough to avoid a problem.

“That's fine, we c-can dance until they come back,” the woman said, this time pulling on Trunks's right arm, toward the dance floor.

“You need to start moving this way,” Laiserta said flatly to Trunks over the radio. “Spider-head's almost here with the package.”

“I'm very sorry, but I can't,” Trunks stressed, speaking to both the mystery woman pulling on his arm and his comrade.

“Find a way to ditch the Mutellian and get your ass in gear,” Laiserta said again. Armada's conversation continued in his ear behind Laiserta's words, and Trunks knew he needed to go. But how was he supposed to leave this woman without causing a scene?

The woman leaned forward and stepped up on her toes in an attempt to get closer to Trunks's face. He instinctively backed away from her but he didn't have much room to move. “No one's ever told me no before,” the woman whispered, her visage falling. Had he not been in the middle of an important mission, Trunks might have felt sorry for her and taken her up on her offer. As the situation stood, he had to get away from her as soon as possible. The question was how.

“Sarasu!” a deep, almost angry voice shouted, and the woman nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned and Trunks followed her gaze to find a man much older than the woman, but clearly of the same species. He had the same tomato red skin and pointed ears, but he was mostly bald and had a decent amount of wrinkles on his face.

“Father,” she said sheepishly, releasing her grip on Trunks so she could turn and face the man properly.

Trunks kept his face calm, but wondered what drama he'd been dragged into now. He spared a glance back toward the balcony and didn't see Armada or Luunalt. He'd lost them in the few moments he'd been trying to get away from this strange woman. Great, he thought bitterly.

“I told you that you needed to remain with Kuromu for the entirety of the evening, did I not?” Sarasu's father demanded, clearly irritated with his daughter's behavior.

At this, Sarasu's face turned indignant. “And I thought that I told you that I will not marry him!” she shouted, though not quite loud enough to draw any more eyes to the situation. The orchestra playing in the background kept her voice from traveling far.

She then whipped around, facing Trunks again and throwing herself into him, latching onto both of his arms this time. “I-I've found someone else!” Sarasu announced, and Trunks had to steel his nerves to keep from reacting too severely to her drunken declaration.

“What?!” the father exclaimed, shock and anger mixing into a strange cocktail of emotions displayed on his face. His gaze immediately shot to Trunks and hardened.

Trunks couldn't remain quiet any longer. “Sir, my apologies, but I don't know this woman,” he said, shaking his head. The father looked ready to burst when his daughter spoke once more.

“You don't now, but you will!” Sarasu begged, looking up at Trunks expectantly with tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“Spider-head, you're gonna have to stall. Wonder boy's drowning down there,” Trunks heard Laiserta say over the radio in what was barely louder than a whisper.

Upstairs in the dark hallway leading to Luunalt's office, Armada stopped walking. Rickel gazed at her curiously, his eyebrows raised. Armada made a show of glancing both ways down the hallway, to verify that no one was around. “I don't think we need to go all the way to your office, this should suffice,” she said, indicating they conduct their discussion where they stood. Armada was only twenty meters from the balcony she needed to drag Luunalt to for Laiserta to strike, but she couldn't move too soon if Trunks couldn't meet them in time. Certainly someone had already noticed Luunalt's absence from the festivities below, and would begin the search. They didn't have much time to pull this off without encountering some serious problems.

Despite not knowing what he was going to say to get out of this, Trunks opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated long enough that he was interrupted by a trio of men who approached from behind the angry father; three more that looked just like Sarasu and her dad.

“Thank goodness you've found her!” one of the men exclaimed; he appeared to be the closest to Sarasu's age, but with these particular aliens Trunks had no way of knowing.

“No thanks to you,” the father snapped.

The tallest man of the group stepped forward and put his arms on Sarasu's shoulders. “Sister, let this poor man go,” he said softly. Sarasu seemed to respond better to the softer tone of her brother, and she released Trunks. She glanced up at him one last time before turning away sharply; Trunks thought she suddenly seemed embarrassed to be seen with him.

The brother steered his sister toward their father, and when he released her shoulders she stumbled slightly before she began arguing with her father. The brother then turned toward Trunks. “My deepest apologies for my sister's brazen actions,” he stated, bowing his head slightly.

“It's fine,” Trunks tried to wave him off. “She didn't cause me any trouble,” he explained. The last thing he needed was to get on the bad side of some random criminal at this party—assuming everyone attending was a criminal of some sort. Sarasu and her father began to walk away from Trunks, still arguing while the other two men chased after her.

The brother smirked at Trunks, revealing a set of pointed teeth. “She merely didn't have enough time,” he answered with a slight laugh before turning and following the others.

Once they were a safe distance away, Trunks let out a deep sigh. He found an empty table nearby and set down his drink, and then proceeded to make his way toward the large staircase in the back of the ballroom. “I'm on my way,” Trunks announced over his radio.

Back upstairs, Armada heard Trunks speak as she listened to Luunalt. “So for the assault weapons, body armor, small arms, thirty armored vehicles and a case of Minovsky grenades, we're looking at,” Armada paused as she added up the numbers in her head, “twenty-two million betas?”

“Twenty-one-point-eight-nine, but yes,” Luunalt replied, cracking a smile. “You're certainly as sharp as they say, Miss Renais.”

“Wonder boy's coming up the stairs now, you need to move before the target spots him,” Armada heard Laiserta say over the radio. Luunalt was facing down the long end of the hallway, toward the stairs they had ascended a few minutes ago.

“It's a bit stuffy in here; let's walk out and get some air,” Armada said in the smooth, practiced voice she had used for most of the night. She didn't wait for a reply from Luunalt and started walking, hoping he would simply follow her. He quickly followed, and she felt a sense of relief. At least he wouldn't be watching Trunks follow them down the hall.

“I can have the funds transfer setup as soon as tomorrow,” Armada continued their conversation. “When can you deliver the product?” she asked just as they crossed the threshold from the hallway out onto the balcony.

The nearly full-moon lit up the balcony, and Armada could see Luunalt clearly. She kept walking to the back of the balcony, only stopping once she could set a hand on the railing. Luunalt followed her the whole way, stopping next to her at the end of the balcony. “The primary warehouse is in LOKI, not far from Brunhild,” Luunalt answered. “I'll have to ship the Minovsky grenades, but everything else should already be on-site.”

Armada saw a slight movement behind Luunalt, but kept her eyes focused on his. She couldn't afford to give away Laiserta. “Good. I'll send a fleet to pick everything up after the transfer has been confirmed,” she said.

Luunalt opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Suddenly his eyes drifted back into his head, and he fell forward only to stop short of falling into Armada. The space behind Luunalt shimmered, and suddenly Laiserta was visible once more. She smirked at Armada before looking down at the back of Luunalt's neck, a small piece of plastic sticking out from the skin where Laiserta had injected him with a sedative.

“That was easy,” Laiserta said before hefting up Luunalt over her left shoulder. She turned around and pulled a black rope down from the rafters above, and Armada held her hand to her right ear. She was just about to ask Trunks where he was, when he walked through the doorway to the balcony.

“You missed all the fun,” Laiserta said, shrugging the shoulder that carried their target as she wound up her rope and tied a new loop in the end.

“Time to go,” Armada barked out and then approached Laiserta, taking Luunalt's unconscious body from her. Trunks closed the distance between them to help her, and Armada shot him an annoyed glance.

Laiserta wrapped the newly tied off end of her rope around one of the stone pillars in the balcony railing and pulled it back toward her to tighten it. “You two first,” she said, motioning over the balcony with her head. Armada dragged Rickel closer to the ledge, propping his back up against the railing. She then hopped up on the balcony backwards in a seated position on the ledge. She swung her legs over, grabbed the rope from Laiserta and began her descent.

“You next,” Laiserta said to Trunks.

“What about you?” Trunks asked, wondering how she planned to get down while carrying their charge.

She smiled. “You guys will help with that from the ground. Get going,” she added deftly.

Trunks complied and climbed over the balcony railing before he grabbed the rope and started to climb down. He looked down briefly, and was certain it was a far longer drop than two stories. He felt anxiety wash over him, and wished he had listened to the voice in his head that told him not to look down.

A quick two minutes later, he and Armada were on the ground below. Laiserta pulled the rope up partially to untie it from around one of the balcony railing pillars. She then looped it around the same pillar once, throwing the open end down below. With the looped end in her right hand, she picked up Luunalt with her left and slung him over her shoulder once more. She sat up on the railing and let the rope fall slack at her feet. “Grab on to the other end,” she said to her comrades down below.

Armada grabbed the end of the rope first, and Trunks held on to a section right behind her. Once they had the rope in hand, Laiserta stepped into the looped end of the rope with her right foot. “I sure hope you two have the strength to hold on,” Laiserta said more to herself than to her comrades. She sighed, and pushed herself forward, off of the balcony railing.

The rope tightened sharply, jerking Trunks and Armada forward as they struggled to adjust to the sudden weight. Trunks gritted his teeth and tried to get decent footing in the grass; he knew Laiserta was heavy but this was ridiculous. He looked up to Laiserta; she held the rope in her right hand while she stood upright on the loop with her right foot.

“Slowly,” Armada said through clenched teeth. She started to step forward, and Trunks followed behind her after each step. Laiserta's descent to the ground moved at a snail's pace, but it was better than the alternative. When their comrade was about halfway down, Trunks heard something crack. He and Armada both stopped; their heads shooting up toward the sound.

Laiserta looked up as well, just as pieces of the stone balcony started crumbling away. “Aw, shit,” she managed to say just before the pillar broke. She fell the rest of the way down to the ground, at least twenty-five feet, with a blaring crash. Trunks let go of the rope and ran forward, Armada on his heels.

Trunks took a knee next to Laiserta, who was on the ground on her back. “Hey, you okay?” he asked worriedly. In the fall, she had dropped Luunalt who was a few feet away from her. Armada approached and checked Luunalt to make sure he was still alive. Luckily Laiserta didn't fall on top of him.

Laiserta struggled to sit up, and Trunks gave her a hand. “Shit,” she swore, grimacing as she finally sat upright. “That hurt,” she said through a strained voice. She turned away from Trunks and looked back at the building briefly. “Damnit, they heard that; people are coming,” she explained before turning back toward Trunks and moving to get up on her feet.

Armada picked up Luunalt, carrying him bridal style. Trunks helped Laiserta rise to her feet; she took a step forward and nearly fell over. Trunks caught her, and moved to her side where she could wrap her left arm around his shoulders and walk with him for support. “No,” Laiserta said as she hobbled along with Trunks, “my rope.”

“We'll get you another one,” Trunks replied, trying to get her moving faster. There was a group of trees not far ahead; if they get into the treeline they could lose anyone trying to follow them.

“But I really liked that one,” Laiserta whined, her head then falling forward and swaying slightly. Luckily for the mercenaries, they made it into the tree line and out of sight by the time security guards appeared outside the mansion, and back to the ship shortly thereafter.

-+-

After boarding the ship and departing Farleh, the mercenaries only needed to make it back across the border to the Federation Alliance to meet up with LOKI federal police officers and transfer Luunalt into their custody. The funds were transferred on-site at the space station, and all parties went their separate ways. Laiserta only had minor injuries, but she explained that she would 'bruise like hell' from the fall. Shortly after they began their return trip to Bmyhad, Laiserta went to her room to rest. Trunks followed suit a few hours later.

Two days after that, Laiserta was still spending most of her time sleeping in her room. Trunks expressed his worry to Armada that she was injured more than she had let on, but his comrade told him not to worry. She didn't think Laiserta would try to cover up her injuries, and she advised that Trunks let her rest.

Later that night, Trunks woke up groggy and thirsty. He checked the time, and it was the middle of the night on Bmyhad. He wasn't on Bmyhad as they were still traveling through space, but using Bmyhadian time to try and stick to a decent sleep schedule was all he had to go on. Deciding that he was thirsty enough to do something about it, he got up and made his way to the galley.

Walking through the lounge, Trunks would have laughed to himself if he wasn't so tired. Armada was up, looking at something on her laptop where she sat at the table. Once inside the galley, he grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and made his way back toward his room.

“Hey, I've got something to show you,” Armada said, her eyes drifting up to him and away from her computer's screen.

Trunks let out a breath and frowned. “Do you ever sleep?” he asked, somewhat annoyed. He was tired and wanted to go back to bed; he only got up because he was so damn thirsty that he couldn't fall back asleep.

Ignoring his question, Armada turned her laptop around slightly so he could get a better look. Trunks took a few steps over to get closer to the table and leaned over somewhat so he could see the details of what she was showing him. There was a picture of a man with red hair, in a blue suit, and a bunch of text around it. Trunks blinked hard a few times, trying to clear up his vision to get a better look. He finally resigned and sat down next to Armada, hopefully to get a better view.

She turned the laptop back around to face them. “I got this file from a hacker who'd broken into a datacenter belonging to the Republican military,” she explained.

“Who is it?” Trunks asked, still studying the photo. The man looked young, maybe not much older than Trunks, and he had bright red hair that was cut much the same as Trunks's was when he kept it short. The photo appeared to be taken from a distance and without the subject's knowledge, as the man looked to be mid-conversation with someone nearby.

“Ryan Rieve,” Armada replied, looking at Trunks pointedly.

Trunks turned to his comrade sitting to his right, his eyes wide. “Rieve? The same Rieve?” he asked, wanting to verify that he was following her.

Armada nodded. “This guy is the leader,” she said flatly. She turned to the document, “Apparently he took control of the organization fifteen years ago, the same time that the last known members of the Rieve family were last seen in public. Or so the analyst who wrote this report thinks,” Armada amended. “There's always a chance it's wrong.”

Trunks thought for a moment. “So this guy's not part of the Rieve family?” he asked.

“No,” Armada replied. “It must have been a hostile takeover,” she added, her gaze turning inward as she thought. “I wonder how he managed that,” she said mostly to herself.

A memory floated up to the front of Trunks's mind. 'And, as far as I know, nobody's stronger than the man himself, though I've never seen him fight with my own eyes.' “Is he an energy fighter?” Trunks asked, trying to gauge just what Armada knew.

“I don't know, but most likely he is,” Armada answered, finally looking back at Trunks once again. “It could explain how he managed to take over the organization,” she added. She turned to the laptop again, looking at the file. “What I really want to know is, why is the military gathering information on him? This should be the jurisdiction of the national police, not the military,” she said, her eyebrows coming together as she thought.

“Who cares about that; now we know who their leader is,” Trunks cut in. “So now we just need to find this guy, right?”

Armada looked to Trunks. “It won't be that easy. He likely stays at their headquarters,” she answered.

“So where's the headquarters?” Trunks asked.

“No one knows,” Armada replied. “But I think it's somewhere in the southeastern Republic. Gives them close proximity to both the Federation and LOKI, while maintaining some discretion as the area isn't as densely populated or patrolled.”

“So we need to locate their headquarters,” Trunks surmised from what his partner had just stated.

“Yes, but we're not ready to launch an assault on it,” Armada quickly countered. “The ship needs some serious upgrades before we're going to take on that kind of firefight.”

Trunks looked back at the image on the monitor, studying the photo of Ryan Rieve. They had a target, now they just needed to find him.

-+-

Thanks for reading! I would love feedback, good or bad.

-Silvia