The Levels of Aria

Chapter One

It was one of the most highly regarded parties of the year. The building where it was held was at least four stories tall, but this party was held on the roof. The night sky hung over head, a big moon in the distance, a look over the edge and you could see the streets of New York bustling with taxis and people going about their normal business. Around the terrace, ladies lounged about on chairs or in packs discussing their husband’s businesses or comparing which had a more expensive dress or wedding ring. Men talked politics and smoked cigars, sometimes catching a passing girl by the arm and whispering about something that would most likely happen later in the night.

 It was a place for men and women – representing companies, governments and themselves – to try to catch each other’s eyes, either so they could make contracts, or get into each other’s beds. There were weapons on display beside the food and drink, weapons to kill people with, alcohol to loosen the tongues and inhabitation of well-off people, and food to be ignored as people made their rounds.

 There were reporters too, of course; they always seemed to weasel their way into these things. The most renowned man in the room had many names he went by with the media, Merchant of Death being one of them. He was a weapons dealer from Europe who owned a rather large company in the States; however unfortunately for him, he was deemed a threat to the Organization.

Across the roof, a boy sat down at the bar. He was old enough to look the part of a man, but still had that glint of youth that was hard to shake. The only acknowledgment he was given was a curt nod of greeting from the bartender before he went back to cleaning a glass. He seemed relieved for that one small moment, free of anyone’s attention or notice until he heard footsteps.

Silently cursing whoever the hell decided to test his patience, he peeked over his shoulder to see him. And by him, he meant his brother, Joshua, the golden son of the family. Always beloved by his father and praised even if his actions were good or not. The boy sighed impatiently and turned back to the bar, waving the bartender over and ordering a drink. Joshua, of course, took this as a greeting and slid onto the seat next to him, a smirk tugging on his lips.

“Elijah,” Joshua said, as much as a greeting Elijah would probably ever get from him.

“Joshua,” Elijah muttered bitterly, taking the drink from the bartender. “And what do I owe for the pleasure of seeing you here? I’m working, you know.”

“Oh, I’m very aware,” Joshua said, letting out a soft chuckle. “The most famous man in the room tonight, isn’t it? Victor, I think his name was,” his eyes drifted over to the man, currently hosting a girl on either side of him, one latched on to his arm. “I assume Special Cases sent you over here as usual. They always act as if Division can never get a damn job done.”

“I’m not surprised; Division has hardly proved itself trustworthy lately. Have you sent another one of your little brainwashed puppies to kill my target before me?”

“Brainwashed?” Joshua said, mocking an attempt at surprise. “They hardly seem to believe that.”

“Isn’t that the point of brainwash?” Elijah grumbled, rolling his eyes and taking a sip from his drink.

“Hm, fine,” Joshua said, giving his younger brother at least that. “But I’ll let you know, I did have a reason for coming over here. And no, it wasn’t just to interrupt your obviously pleasant drinking time.”

“Really, please, by all means, I’m curious,” Elijah said not even attempting to act interested.

Joshua just scowled and proceeded to explain, “It’s information I thought might interest you.” He stopped, watching his brother’s expression, waiting for any sign or response from him at all. When it was clear there would be none, he went on, “Unless of course you’re not interested in what happened to your dear, Akira.”