**Somewhere in the Gilded Plaza of Ironhelm**
Within the opulent confines of one of Ironhelm's grand mansions, nestled high above the crowded streets where slum dwellers and the working class toiled, a man sat in what could only be described as a lavish office. The room was adorned with exquisite objects that most could only dream of possessing.
The man himself was a picture of refined elegance, dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit that oozed luxury from every stitch. Every detail, down to the last button, spoke of meticulous craftsmanship. With an air of quiet sophistication, he perused the contents of a letter before him.
As his eyes swept across the lines of the letter, he mused aloud, "Hmm, well, I suppose one more couldn't hurt. But The Guard is becoming quite the nuisance." His thoughts danced with the contents of the message, considering its implications.
A discreet knock resonated at the door, and without lifting his gaze from the letter, he beckoned, "Come in." His voice maintained a composed tone, a reflection of the measured atmosphere of his surroundings.
The one who had knocked entered without a word. They stood before the man's desk, a silent presence in the room. Observing their demeanor, he reached into a drawer and retrieved a sheet of paper, sliding it across the polished surface. "So, why did you do that?" he inquired, his gaze expectant as he extended the paper to them. Without hesitation, the individual began to pen their response, their movements precise.
Reading the response on the paper, the man raised an eyebrow slightly. "Because you wanted to see someone?" he repeated, contemplating the implications of this motive. "Was the one you wanted to meet from the outside?" His inquiry was met with a nod, a simple confirmation that needed no further elaboration.
The man's features displayed a contemplative expression as he processed the response. "So did you learn what you wanted to?" he inquired, seeking to gauge the success of the mission. The person's head shook in a negative gesture, indicating that their objectives were not fully achieved.
The man's demeanor remained composed as he continued his questioning. "If not, then you only caused more problems attacking a Guard-owned residence," he stated, his tone devoid of anger or frustration, carrying instead a sense of detached analysis.
The person's gloved hands, adorned with serrated edges, retrieved another piece of paper, quickly scribbling down additional words. The paper was handed over to the man, who promptly read the new message. "You want to leave the city? Has the person from the outside left?" he inquired with a more questioning tone, his curiosity piqued. The Fiend accepted the paper, his gloved fingers gripping the writing tool, and began to fill the sheet with more characters.
While The Fiend continued to write, the sound of another knock resonated through the room. Viktor's voice cut through the silence, inquiring, "What is it?" A woman's voice responded, "Guests have come to the mansion, Master Viktor." Absorbing this information, Viktor replied, "Tell them I will come down in 5 minutes." As he finished speaking, he turned his attention back to the paper The Fiend had been writing on, waiting for the masked figure to provide more information.
The Fiend completed his writing and handed the paper to Viktor. As Viktor read the contents, his eyebrows slightly arched in realization. "That is not the reason you want to go outside? You want to go out for... AH, that makes sense then. I can provide you a bike if you want?" Viktor's response held a note of understanding, and though his outward demeanor remained composed, there was a subtle undertone of approval. The Fiend nodded in response to the offer of a bike, acknowledging Viktor's proposition.
Viktor rose from his seat, closing the gap between him and The Fiend. Placing a hand on The Fiend's shoulder, he offered his well-wishes. "Good luck on the outside, Nori. Come back soon and safe. You're the best assassin I have, after all." A faint warmth laced his words, conveying a sense of camaraderie. However, a brief pause followed before he added, "Then again, Valien should now be free from The Shadow Baron, so I could hire him." Despite the potential implication of being replaced, The Fiend remained unfazed, his thoughts centered on a different person.
With a wave of his hand, Viktor signaled his farewell to The Fiend, offering a parting instruction. "Well, goodbye for now. Eriv will give you the keys if you ask him." With that, he left the room, likely to attend to the guests who had arrived. The Fiend, too, dissolved from view as soon as the door clicked shut, his presence fading into the shadows.
**Somewhere inside the mansion**
Leaning against a wall, a man with a brown skin tone exhaled a puff of smoke from his cigarette. His attire consisted of elegant butler's clothing, a stark contrast to his relaxed demeanor. "So, what do you need?" he inquired, his tone carrying a detached professionalism. His gaze calmly fixed on The Fiend who had just appeared before him.
The Fiend, with a simple gesture, pointed towards the sleek black bike nearby. The vehicle boasted a compact frame housing a steam engine positioned near the rear wheel. Oversized rubber tires and a straightforward handlebar arrangement completed its design.
Without hesitation, the man, retrieved a key from a nearby workbench and flung it toward The Fiend, who deftly caught it in his gloved hand. Settling onto the bike's seat, The Fiend's presence was marked with a silent assurance.
The man, named Eriv according to the tag on his butler's jacket, inquired, "Are you venturing through the underground?" A nod from The Fiend was his response, prompting Eriv to grasp a lever nearby. With a fluid motion, he activated the mechanism, the floor beneath The Fiend's bike gradually descended, revealing a concealed pathway leading underground.
Eriv's hand lifted in a casual salute as The Fiend ignited the bike's engine, a harmonious blend of humming electricity and hissing steam resonating through the underground passage. The bike surged forward, its sleek frame cutting through the darkness with an almost ethereal grace. The Fiend accelerated, a faint blue aura enveloping the bike as it gained speed.
The subterranean journey was a breathtaking blur, the bike's tires creating an ephemeral trail of sparks as they gripped the metallic track. The wind rushing past The Fiend's helmeted head, accompanied by the symphony of the engine's humming and the rhythmic hiss of steam.
Soon, the sight of an open exit greeted him, bathed in the warm embrace of sunlight. Swiftly transitioning into the outside world, The Fiend emerged from the exit, only for it to seal shut behind him, with an air of finality.