Chris sat in one of the house's luxurious chairs, tapping his fingers against his knee as he glanced at the clock. Time seemed to crawl as he waited for Mark and Loe to arrive. His thoughts swirled, frustration and concern gnawing at him.
(What is it really… why won't Mark tell me what's going on?) Chris thought, frowning. His mind raced with possibilities. (I know they're up to something. Mark never keeps secrets from me, and now he's being vague? What kind of trouble are you two caught up in? You better be alright, Mark, Loe.)
The longer he sat, the more uneasy Chris became. Something felt off. It wasn't just that his friends were late—it was the fact that they were avoiding telling him the truth. He trusted them, but lately, things had felt different. He knew Mark and Loe well enough to sense that something bigger was happening, something they weren't willing to share with him.
Lenore Van Ryn stood a few feet away, her presence a looming reminder that this entire situation was more complicated than it seemed. Chris had never fully trusted Lenore, despite her politeness and composure. There was something about her—something cold and calculated.
Lenore's mcall device had rung earlier, and though she had spoken in hushed tones, Chris had picked up enough to know the conversation was about something urgent. She had excused herself, speaking to someone he didn't recognize, and though she had smiled when she returned, he didn't trust the facade.
"Would you care for some refreshments, young sir?" Lenore asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, but Chris could sense the tension behind it.
Chris looked up, barely registering her words as his thoughts churned. "No, I'm fine." He knew better than to engage with someone like Lenore, someone who always seemed to be hiding something. He didn't trust her—he didn't trust anyone in this manor except Mark and Loe. And right now, they weren't here.
Lenore shifted slightly, sensing his discomfort. Her smile remained plastered on her face, but Chris could see the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. She was uneasy, though she hid it well.
For now, all he could do was wait. But every second felt like an eternity, and the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on his chest.
Mark, Loe… you better be alright.
..........
Mark and Loe exchanged a glance, both knowing how delicate the situation was becoming. The tension in the room was palpable as they stood before Gustav, Vivian, and Mindy Williams. This wasn't just about Chris waiting at the private manor or villa anymore—this was about keeping their cover intact while trying to dismantle the Chicago Outfit from within.
As Mark and Loe prepared to leave the apartment, the tension in the air seemed to thicken. The apartment was small but filled with the signs of a makeshift resistance—papers and maps of Chicago spread across the dining table, a whiteboard on the wall covered with names and operations of the Chicago Outfit, and stacks of notes and journal entries littered around. The apartment felt like a hidden nerve center for their plan to take down Alphonse Capone's criminal empire.
Mark stood by the door, hand resting on the knob, taking a final moment to absorb the tense atmosphere inside. The amber light above flickered, casting a warm glow on the faces of Gustav and Vivian Van Doren, seated at the table. They had been instrumental in the fight, and their safety was paramount. Gustav, still recovering from the events that led to his and his wife's near capture, looked up at Mark with gratitude etched across his features.
Gustav Van Doren, still seated at the table, looked at Mark with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you for everything, Mark. I don't know what we would've done if you hadn't come to help." His wife Vivian sat beside him, her face focused but tired from hours of decrypting the journal.
Mark gave a firm nod, though the weight of their situation dulled any sense of accomplishment. "We're in this together. You've done your part too, helping us dismantle the Outfit's operations."
Gustav's eyes flicked to his wife before returning to Mark. "Destroying those monsters was never a question. It had to be done."
The tension in the room was palpable, with everyone knowing the stakes were higher now. Mark's gaze swept over to Mindy Williams, who was standing near the door with a concerned look. Her psychic abilities had often been their advantage in this fight, but her telepathy was picking up all the wrong signals, especially from Lenore.
Mark turned to Vivian, who had been deep into the journal. "Vivian, how are you doing on the journal? Did you find anything?"
Vivian glanced up, her brow furrowed. "I'm close. There's definitely something here that Alphonse is trying to hide, but it's not fully clear yet. Give me more time."
Mark nodded, appreciating her dedication. Every second counted, and the journal could be their trump card. He noticed the dim light reflected in Vivian's tired eyes, a sign of the long hours she had spent working on the critical information.
Mark then turned his attention to Loe, who had pushed away from the window and was now putting on his jacket. The Morning air outside was growing cooler, and the weight of the upcoming encounter with Chris and Lenore hung heavily between them. The dark fabric of Loe's jacket seemed to blend into the dimly lit room as he moved silently, like a shadow preparing for an unseen battle.
"We should head back," Mark said, breaking the silence. "Chris is waiting, and the longer we take, the more suspicious it'll look."
Loe smirked, though there was no humor behind it. "Yeah, let's go. Chris is smart, but we can't let him dig too deep into what's going on." Loe's eyes darted to Mindy as she stepped forward.
"I should go with you two," Mindy said, her tone firm. "It'll be suspicious if I'm not there with you. Lenore might pick up on it."
Mark shook his head. "No. You stay here. We'll tell them you're visiting your parents. It's a solid excuse. Plus, with Lenore around, we can't risk having all of us under the same roof. I heard her voice earlier."
Mindy crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. "And you think that excuse will hold up?"
Loe gave a small grin. "It'll work. Trust me. Lenore might be sharp, but she's not expecting anything from us yet. She's too focused on other things, especially with Chris in the picture now. We can't let her know we're onto the Outfit."
The distant sound of traffic outside the apartment buzzed faintly in the background, a constant reminder of the world moving around them, oblivious to the dangerous game they were playing. A streetlamp flickered just outside, casting a yellowish glow that seeped in through the window and stretched across the hardwood floor.
Gustav stood and shook Mark's hand firmly. "Be careful. Lenore's dangerous, and if she catches wind of what we're doing…"
Mark nodded, his expression unreadable. "I know."
Vivian, still seated, gave a small nod to Mark and Loe, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the journal as if it held the key to everything. "I'll keep working on this. We'll stay hidden."
The door creaked as Mark and Loe finally stepped out into the narrow hallway. The cool air from outside greeted them as they descended the stairs of the old apartment building, the worn steps creaking under their weight. The street outside was relatively quiet, save for the occasional passing car or distant conversation. The familiar scent of the city—exhaust fumes, street food, and damp pavement—filled the air.
Mark glanced at Loe, who was already lighting another cigarette, the small flame briefly illuminating his face in the Morning. The two of them walked in silence for a moment, the weight of their mission pressing down on them.
"Are we really doing this?" Mark asked after a while, his voice low.
"We don't have a choice," Loe replied, exhaling a puff of smoke. "But first, we need to convince Chris that nothing's wrong. We can't let him suspect anything, not until we're ready."
Mark nodded as they continued toward the manor, the looming structure visible in the distance. The night was quiet, but the danger felt closer than ever. Every step they took felt like walking deeper into the lion's den, where one wrong move could mean disaster.
..........
Meanwhile, Alphonse Capone, after his brief and tense conversation with Lenore, made his way to the underground facility—a secret lab hidden beneath the city. As he walked through the dimly lit corridors, the echo of his footsteps bounced off the cold, sterile walls. The scent of antiseptic and chemicals filled the air, mixing with a lingering metallic tang that hinted at the darker experiments taking place within.
Alphonse reached a reinforced steel door, scanning his hand over a panel beside it. The scanner whirred for a moment before the heavy gate slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the hidden world within. He stepped inside, greeted by the hum of machinery and the murmur of voices from the many scientists working tirelessly on their gruesome projects.
The facility was vast, lined with rows of cages and containment units. Inside these units, men and women were strapped to tables or locked behind glass, their eyes wide with fear, confusion, or numbness from prolonged suffering. Various medical devices and experimental tools were scattered around, most of them coated in dried blood or strange, unidentifiable fluids. The cold, blue light of the laboratory cast eerie shadows across the room, making the scene all the more grotesque.
Alphonse's gaze settled on a group of scientists huddled around one of the subjects. As he approached, he noticed the twisted figure of the scientist leading the experiment—a man whose body had begun to resemble a disfigured ant. His limbs had elongated and grown chitinous plates, and his face was barely recognizable, with mandibles starting to protrude from his mouth. His transformation was almost complete, yet still horribly wrong.
Suddenly, the scientist convulsed violently, collapsing to the ground. His body twitched and spasmed as he tried to stand, but in moments, his form crumbled, leaving nothing but a grotesque heap of twisted flesh and broken exoskeleton. The other scientists looked on in quiet horror, clearly used to such failures but no less disturbed by them.
Alphonse watched with a cold, indifferent expression. This wasn't the first time one of his experiments had gone wrong, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He stepped closer to the remaining scientists, his presence commanding their immediate attention.
One of the lead scientists, his face pale and eyes wide, approached Alphonse nervously. "S-sir, we're close to a breakthrough, but—"
Alphonse raised a hand, silencing him. "Close isn't good enough," he said, his voice calm but filled with menace. "I need results, not excuses."
The scientist nodded quickly, backing away in fear. "Y-yes, of course, sir. We're doing everything we can."
Alphonse's cold gaze swept across the lab. "Make sure you do. I don't care how many lives are lost in the process. We need this perfected, and soon."
The scientists resumed their work with renewed urgency, knowing that failure wasn't an option. Alphonse, satisfied for now, turned and began to walk deeper into the facility. The sounds of the tortured experiments faded behind him, but the chilling sense of dread lingered in the air. He had bigger plans in motion, and nothing—no one—would stand in his way.
To be continue