rogue_3

The agent turns the dial, and cacophonous voices pour from the headset.

'...We've already made breakthroughs following the scientific expedition team's report, and the next order of business may be to inform the military. Which is exactly what I was talking about: our collaboration deserves a suitable witness...'

He is currently listening in on a cocktail party held in a sky garden on top of a high-rise a few miles away. In that warm Columbian city, above the party, the participants surrounded by lush greenery are all talking about the icefields of the far north.

The job he must do for his employer—a representative of a tech group attending the party—is to promptly report information to help the other party identify potential partners for collaboration and maximize their benefits from the icefield scientific expedition.

The agent jots down key information, then turns the dial.

'...Nature does not deal in the business of war, Mr. Cliff.'

'As such, leave geopolitical affairs to the experts, lest your expeditioners provoke any further conflict...'

A few more scrawled lines. Another turn of the dial.

A melodious piece of music sounds in the headset, the audiomonitor returning a portion of the noise signal due to a resonance induced by the particular nature of its Originium Arts.

'If these terms suffice to trade for your research results in the enigmatic field of these Collapsals, I would be most honored. Of course, you have plenty of time to think it over. Leithanian hospitality demands that we don't trouble our guests to leave their rooms in the spire.'

The agent compiles the shorthand notes into a brief message, forwards it to his employer, then continues his search at the reception.

He recognizes another familiar voice. This one is usually accompanied by strong footsteps; on previous occasions, people would occasionally hear the tapping of his uniquely-constructed cane against the floor throughout the course of the conversation.

'Thank you. I'm finding myself perfectly at home here.

'A cocktail party attended by the ambitious is but one of many customs shared across the lands.'

'Haha, you're such a kidder, Mr. Maryam... Out of curiosity, does your presence here imply that Rhine Lab has slowed down the pace of its icefield exploration?'

'I'm not the head of that project at Rhine. I'm simply here to slightly reduce the number of people in the way.'

'Haha. In that case, why don't you tell us about that student of yours. What was her name again? Vien–...'

The transmission suddenly experiences severe interference. The agent frowns and tries to adjust the equipment.

But for the rest of the night, there is nothing but the monotonous sound of static in his headset.

'I am seriously wondering if there's any meaning to what we're doing, Raidian.'

A young Rhodes Island operator squats in the corner of the building, carefully handling the weapons he just retrieved from the assassin.

'This whole conspiracy's spreading as fast as Originium crystals after a Catastrophe. Even if we nab a few assassins here and a few agents there, there are still countless eyes out there fixated on what comes of this expedition. To be honest, after all the stories my grandparents told me about the horrors of the battlefield, I find it hard to believe that all these forces are so willing to put aside their vendettas just to explore the icefields together.'

'But explorers will always keep pressing forward,' responds the elite operator next to him.

'All we can do is slightly reduce the number of people in the way. Oh, right, has our channel been secured yet? We should start handing out the invitations.'