West Pointe

Chapter One

Somewhere in Venice, Italy.

"Those damn Swiss. What," Damon exclaimed, pulling on his hair. "Oh, what would it cost for them to just sell it?"

The rest of the room remained silent, the dim lighting from the single window casting long, unsettling shadows. The oppressive darkness seemed to pulse with the tension hanging in the air.

A flame flickered in the surrounding shadows, revealing a man with jet-black hair, a chiseled chin, and a slight stubble. He lit up his cigarette with a silver lighter, the small flame casting brief, stark highlights on his features before plunging them back into shadow. The tendrils of smoke curled lazily, adding to the room's hazy, almost surreal atmosphere. "Why does it matter so much anyway? It's just another bomb." He replied, his voice a calm contrast to Damon's agitation.

Damon burst into frenzied laughter. "Just another bomb?" He slammed his hands on the heavy wooden desk, the sound echoing ominously in the room. "It's the Nova, Holmes, not just another bomb. The weapon with the destructive power of a freaking exploding star. Do you realize," he gritted through his teeth. "The potential that this thing holds. The power that we would hold if we had it in our control?"

Holmes put out his cigarette on the central table, leaving a dark smudge on its otherwise immaculate surface, and leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked, a sound that became amplified in the stillness. "Power, sure. But at what cost?"

"They might just be a group of mad scientists," another voice rang out from the shadows, smooth and deep. "But Lumille is not a group we can contend with without sustaining serious harm. Not while that old man with one foot in the grave lives."

Damon sighed in exasperation. "Thank you for the observation, Bernard. I do realize that."

"Are you sure you do?" Holmes asked, leaning forward so the light just caught his sharp, cold eyes. "Cause if you did, you wouldn't be so insistent on this matter."

"Let's hear him out," another voice interjected, female this time, carrying a hint of amusement.

"Why thank you, Bella," Damon stated, gesturing towards an elegant Italian woman seated at the head of the table. Her glittering red dress shimmered faintly in the dim light, the only bright spot in the gloom. He grabbed a remote and turned on the projector behind him, the sharp glare of the light dispelling the dark that hung over the room like a cloak, exposing its occupants who all turned their eyes to the screen.

The room contained six individuals; Damon, Holmes, Bella, Edmon, Bernard, and Leon. Each was at the top of the crime chain, holding various positions in mafias and terrorist groups worldwide.

Bella leaned her chin on her hand, her bright red nail polish contrasting her pale, exotic skin. Her other hand held a champagne flute as she swirled its blood-red content. "What are you getting at, Damon?" She asked, her voice dripping with curiosity and suspicion.

"Now Lumille would never sell us Nova under normal circumstances. Can't buy it, can't steal it, that leaves us with one option," Damon answered, his voice steady and cunning.

"A bargaining chip," Holmes deduced, his eyes narrowing in thought.

"No shit, Sherlock," Damon answered with a mischievous smile.

"Lumille leaves no ends loose, everyone knows that." Edmon, the elderly man on the right side of the table noted, his top hat and formal wear added to his Victorian air.

"Except," Damon began with a devious smile. "This time, they might have."

Bella scowled in disgust, dropping her champagne flute with a slight thud. "Wipe that repulsive smile off your face and get to the freaking point."

"Anyone remember Gabriel Lumille?" Damon answered, his smile unwavering.

"The prodigal son of the Lumille family. Left the stronghold close to two decades ago, died shortly after in an automobile accident." Leon commented, finally looking up from his laptop, which flickered with numerous lines of code.

"Bingo," Damon confirmed, adding, "except the automobile crash part," after some thought.

Bella looked shocked before breaking into a teasing smile. "You guys are crazy. You killed Gabriel?"

"Not exactly," Holmes replied, his voice darkening. "We sent men after him and he died trying to get away. But the main point is that he's dead. I don't see where you're going with this, Damon."

"Well, Gabriel, rest his soul, left a little girl behind before going to see his maker. And with Nico's death earlier this week?" He paused, relishing the suspense, waiting for them to grab on.

Everyone adopted thinking stances before Bella's eyes widened in realization. "That would leave the lass as heir."

"Bingo once again," Damon exclaimed in excitement.

"And she's outside of the stronghold?" Holmes questioned, his voice heavy with skepticism.

Damon activated the projector, displaying an image. "Oh, she's out alright. Even better, she has no idea of her heritage as Lumille's heir."

The image showed the profile of a young woman in her early to mid-twenties. Her curly shoulder-length brown hair framed an oval face, with emerald green eyes. She was dressed in casual formal attire, a building carrying the sign 'West Pointe Corp' in the background. The text below the picture carried her personal information, prominently displaying her name: Samantha David-West May.