The shining rays of the sun fall upon the dark room as five people sit around a long table. All wear black and red suits, their faces solemn. Silence fills the room, the air heavy with tension.
The creak of doors breaks the silence. All eyes turn to the man entering the room. He is tall and muscular white skinned man, with blonde, straight hair and a commanding presence that could make anyone shiver. His sharp features and piercing gaze scan the room before he moves to shake hands with each person at the table.
First is a small girl with brown hair, a round face, and glasses. Her white, pristine skin reflects the sunlight, and her nervous demeanor contrasts with her delicate beauty. Though slim, her handshake reveals a surprising strength. She avoids eye contact, visibly uneasy.
On her left is a white man sitting lazily in his chair. His messy perm and tired eyes give him a disheveled appearance. He barely extends his hand, the muscular man shakes it firmly before moving on.
At the head of the table is an empty seat. To its left sits a hunched old man in a white coat, his grey beard and hair giving him a scholarly appearance. The muscular man greets him with a nod before moving to the third seat at the front.
Here, a blonde man with slicked-back hair lounges, his legs propped on the table as his chair rocks back and forth. A few strands of hair fall onto his forehead, and he smirks as the muscular man approaches.
"Is this reunion about your stupid honor again? Really hope not because if it is you'll be in big trouble..."
The muscular man ignores him, walking past without a word. Sitting down he greets the final person at the table—a dark-skinned man with black dreadlocks and a calm demeanor. The man is distracted but shakes hands politely, waving with his other hand. The muscular man whispers,
"Nice to see you too..."
He takes his seat, his gaze sweeping the room. The old man speaks first, his voice steady but firm.
"So? Why did you call for us?"
The muscular man glances at him, his tone cold.
"The military base located in Birmingham has fallen. A group of imperfects seemingly killed everyone in the base, including Argen. Ron was the only survivor. "
The blond man interrupts, rolling his eyes.
"Ron? That little bitch is still alive?, I really thought he died long ago."
He smirks.
"Guess i'll get to kill him..."
The muscular man's face darkens, his hand clenching into a fist.
"Don't interrupt me again."
The blonde man leans forward, his smirk widening.
"Or what? Will i have to remind you why you're Maria's dog? or maybe make you kneel again?"
The muscular's guy face expression contorts with fury, but the old man slams his hand on the table, cutting in.
"Enough! Heim, you'll let Jold speak. Else i'll have you exiled!"
Heim leans back in his chair, clearly disappointed but silent.
"Whatever."
The old man sighs.
"You can continue, Jold."
Jold takes a deep breath, his voice steady but tense.
"As I was saying, Ron is the only survivor. The group responsible is still unknown, but we have some details about their appearances and their possible location. Ron followed them for a while before they found him. They were headed toward Stoke-on-Trent, but we're not sure if that's their current location."
The old man raises a hand, signaling him to stop.
"Let's get to the point."
Jold nods.
"I want to raid their base, but I need more support. Normal soldiers are useless against a group of Imperfects. I can't afford to lose more of my men"
Heim smirks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Why don't you do it yourself, Mr. Honor?"
Jold glares at him.
"These people took down Argen and Ron. They're not to be underestimated. I just need one of you to help ensure they're eliminated."
The lazy man speaks up, his voice flat.
"Yea... I'm out on that."
The old man nods in agreement.
"We all know what Maria wants. Jold, are you sure you want to kill them? As much as they've disrespected you, we need people for the upcoming war."
Jold slams his fist on the table, his frustration boiling over.
"So we're just supposed to ignore this disrespect?"
The old man's gaze hardens.
"Your request for support is invalid. The right course of action here, is to use the loss of the base as an excuse to engage with Japan once and for all. As for the imperfect group,their fate is up to Maria."
Jold leans back in his chair, visibly frustrated. Heim laughs, his voice echoing in the room.
"Hahahaha! it's so funny seeing you so frustrated... So, old man, when are we going to war?"
The brown-haired girl flinches, her hands fidgeting nervously.
"Uhm... war? Do we really have to fight?"
The lazy man mumbles, barely looking up.
"I don't really want to fight either."
The old man glances at the dark-skinned man, who simply shrugs. With a long sigh, the old man speaks.
"Yes... we do have to fight. After all. You are Maria's private guard..."
Suddenly, the room falls silent. Heim straightens in his chair, his smirk replaced by a look of disgust.
'Here she comes, this fear...'
_Tack, tack, tack, tack_.
The sound of heels echoes outside the room, growing louder with each step. The air grows suffocating, and everyone freezes, avoiding eye contact.
The doors open. A figure steps in, the person's presence overwhelming. The room holds its breath as she enters.
Heim looks up, his voice dripping with disdain.
"Welcome... Sister."