Eçłípsė

1

- We've chosen you as the key worker in this particular mission.

Gavriel stood dumbfounded facing the old man who had just opened his mouth. At the same time he desperately tried to understand how such a frail-looking man had managed to become the leader of an organisation as complex as theirs.

- Why me?
The words left his lips subconsciously and he instantly regretted them. The first rule he had to learn when he started his training time here was: No questions.

Your team leader tells you to stand on your head and sing twinkle twinkle little star while juggling with knifes?

Don't ask why. Just do it.

But he was extremely confused. Why was he, the guy who didn't manage to pass the physical test, being sent on a field mission?

- We need an agent new to the field, but still capable.

These words did nothing else than trigger Gavriels confusion and irritation even more.

The only thing he wished for right now was to sit down behind his sturdy wooden desk, doing paperwork that actually made sense.
Sitting there in peace, is that to much to ask for?

Even though the purpose of the job he got was to serve as punishment, he enjoyed it. He was actually quite thankful to the jerk who made him fail and therefore put an end to his dream of working the field.

Gavriel had seen enough of the gruesome injuries that always was a part of the fieldworkers life. Enough broken bones, enough flesh wounds that will never completely go away. And way to many destroyed minds, people getting overly paranoid, psychotic, depressed.

In spite of all this he knew he could do nothing to get away.

His position in the organisation was to low, and his courage to little. Because of that he continued to stand still and waiting for further information.

The old man looked at him intensely for a few seconds before he nodded, seemingly pleased.

-Our intention with this particular act is to start a temporary collaboration with Ibex.

Though determined to keep on an indifferent mask, Gavriel couldn't stop a feeling of intense surprise to flash over his face.

Elijah, the leader of the biggest "family" in all of Tartar and probably the oldest man alive showed an utterly disapproving face.

- We have full knowledge about, and despise, their unethical methods.

- We are therefore only looking for a temporary collaboration. Also, because of the differences between our two groups it will be hard to contact each other and negotiate.

Because the old man finally seemed to be getting to the point, Gavriel kept quiet, listening.

- We have, as you may already know, long investigated the situation with the royals and our "almighty king".

- After a lot of research we can put forth two crystal clear facts:

1. The King is corrupt. He has been joining hands with the southern states, selling out his own country in exchange of "special favors".

2. Ministers, nobles and highly successful civilians opposing the king has disappeared. Unexplainable accidents and disappearances has wiped them out. At the same time the taxes have been raised without approval of the council.

All of this information wasn't new to Gavriel. He'd read and archived an endless amount of reports flowing in from the royal grounds. In spite of that, he listened attentively, a summary of things could provide a better perspective.

Elijah continued, his voice getting lower, colder.

- The crimes committed by the king has only one outcome, execution. Fredrich Marlowe the fourth have reached his expiration date as the almighty monarch of Tatar.

Understandable. He sacrificed his mens lives to fill his own pockets with gold.

- But. This isn't possible to accomplish by legal means. All people on our side who can do this legally are removed by the king and his companions.
That's why we have to do this the less clean and legal way. That's where you come in.

Hurray! This, the illegal and dangerous part, was his part.

The hardest thing for Gavriel in that moment was to compel an urge to do a sarcastic, celebratory dance.
He didn't, because of lack of masochistic mindset.

Elijah almost seemed to be reading his mind. A cold, barely noticeable, grin flashed over his thin lips.
A chill went down Gavriels spine.

- Next week, the yearly entering contest will be held at the Ibex headquarters. You will take part. You will get in.
Then you shall gain a position high enough to suggest that they join hands with us to have the king executed.

All blood left Gavriels face in an instant. His fingers twitched, the urge to flee made his body numb.
Now the old man smiled a big, grim, smile, making his cold eyes even more intimidating.

- Remember, Gavriel Elrades of Tatar, we accept no mistakes.

It felt as though a cold fog petrified his senses. Ribbons tangled his body, tightening around his chest, throat.

He couldn't breathe.

He didn't know how he got back to his small office. When inside, he sank down to his knees.

As he could see it, he had three options. One. Refuse the mission and pray for mercy. This would probably mean a cruel torture and then, execution.
Two. Run for his life and hope he got away. All the borders are closed. He didn't have a chance to hide from his former co-workers inside this country.
This would also result in torture and death once they found him.

The only thing left was option number three. Try to infiltrate the biggest crime organization in the entire world, get a position high enough to make him a reliable advisor in their eyes. Then try to mend a collaboration between his original organisation and theirs. There was actually a small chance he could survive that.
An on the plus side, if he did, he would be ripped after.

A snorting laugh escaped him.

The bird sitting on the windowsill, frightened, flew away.