9:00 p.m.
Louisiana, USA.
LIN ONGRO
The Thirsty Griffin is alive with energy, the clinking of glasses and hearty laughter filling the warm air. Drax, Marger, and I step inside, drawing curious stares from the crowd. Our mission hangs heavy on my mind, but the tavern's vibrant atmosphere momentarily distracts me.
At the bar, a group of six men sits together, their tattooed arms and rugged appearances hinting at hard lives. I approach them, my gaze steady.
"Excuse us," I say, my tone polite but firm. "We're looking for Morinjo Johnson. Do any of you know him?"
Two of them exchange looks, a flicker of unease crossing their faces. Before either can answer, one of their companions smirks and leans toward me, his breath heavy with alcohol.
"Hey there, gorgeous," he sneers, his hand reaching for my arm. "How about you stay and have a drink with me instead?"
I stiffen, irritation flaring. "Back off," I say sharply, my voice cutting through the tavern's chatter.
"Aw, don't be like that," he says, his grin widening. "I like a feisty one."
He doesn't see the spear forming in my hand until it's too late. The sleek weapon glimmers with an ethereal glow as I spin it, the tip stopping inches from his throat.
"I said, back off," I growl.
The tension snaps like a taut wire. The other men leap to their feet, shouting as they charge me with fists, kicks, and broken bottles. I move instinctively, my spear an extension of my body. I block a punch, sweep another man's legs out from under him, and deflect a bottle aimed at my head.
"Looks like we've got a fighter!" one of them snarls, lunging at me.
"You have no idea," I reply, parrying his strike with a swift turn.
The room erupts into chaos, chairs scraping against the floor and glasses shattering. The fight is a blur of movement—each attack I counter with precision, my spear weaving a deadly dance.
"Get her!" one of them yells, frustration clear in his voice.
The tavern door swings open, drawing everyone's attention. A man stands in the threshold, his figure framed by the moonlight.
"What the hell is going on here?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.
I lower my spear, catching my breath. "War is coming," I say simply, the weight of the words hanging in the air.
He steps closer, his curiosity evident. "What war?"
Drax answers, his tone curt. "All will be explained later. Right now, we need to find Morinjo Johnson."
The man's expression shifts into a smile. "You're in luck," he says. "I know where to find him."
"Then let's go," I say, stepping over the groaning bodies on the floor. The tavern falls silent as we exit, leaving behind only whispers and shattered glass.
Next day. Saturday, 6:00 pm.
**MORINJO**
The sleek purr of my BMW fades as I glide into the driveway of my Baton Rouge mansion, anticipation humming in my veins. My footsteps echo through the marble-floored hallways, a rhythm of power.
A soft chime interrupts the silence, a message on my phone. I glance at it—Lauren Hardy's name. I dial her number, but no answer. She's not here yet. I sigh, then sink into the plush armchair in my study, the scent of leather and polished wood wrapping around me like a familiar embrace.
I open my laptop. The screen flickers, revealing Bitcoin transactions and investment updates. But before I can dive in, an urgent message from Path Finder flashes on the screen.
"We need to assemble the team. It's time."
I groan inwardly. The world can wait. But as I start to reply with a dismissive, "I'm swamped right now, maybe later tonight," Path Finder's response arrives almost immediately:
"Procrastination won't save you, Morinjo. This is bigger than you think."
Reluctantly, I sigh and stand. The familiar scent of spices and sizzling food wafts from the kitchen. I prepare a simple Cuban dish: rice and beans with a fried egg for Lauren, a hearty hamburger for myself.
As I set the plates on the counter, the sound of Path Finder's message drowns out the kitchen noises again.
"Don't forget the newspaper, Morinjo. There's more than just your investment at stake."
I roll my eyes but nod to myself, acknowledging the weight of his words. Just as I finish, the door swings open, revealing Lauren with a broad smile and a letter in hand.
"Wow! This is fantastic! We need to celebrate!" she exclaims, holding up the promotion letter.
"This calls for a toast!" I grin, setting down the spatula.
But before we can toast, there's a knock at the door.
"Are you expecting someone?" Lauren asks, her expression shifting to confusion.
"Nope, but go grab the drinks, will you?" I gesture toward the bar and head for the door.
Liam Scott, Lin Ongro, Drax, and Marger stand there. I'm taken aback but gesture them in.
Lauren reenters, her surprise mirroring mine. Liam wastes no time.
"Hey, Lauren! Quite the surprise, huh? We're here for a business meeting, just so happens it coincides with Morinjo's celebration."
"A business meeting?" Lauren asks, eyebrow raised.
"Yep, balancing work and play, you know how it is. Thought we'd drop by and join in." Liam shrugs casually.
"Seems like a lucky coincidence," she says, still processing the unexpected arrival.
"Couldn't have timed it better. Now, where's that drink Morinjo mentioned?" Liam continues, taking a seat.
As they settle in, the mood shifts. The gravity of our conversation hits, and the business at hand takes center stage—the looming war.
"We're on the edge of something big. This isn't just another skirmish. We have to be ready." I gather everyone.
Drax, always the strategist, speaks first. "We've seen the signs. We'll need to coordinate, be quick and effective. No room for error."
Lin Ongro, eyes sharp, adds, "We'll need intel. We can't afford to be blindsided. I've been scanning their movements for weeks."
"And we'll need muscle. I'm ready to lead the charge," Marger growls, clearly itching for a fight.
"We're going to need more than just muscle. We need brains and brawn, strategically." I hold up my hand to calm them.
"Liam, get our communications secure. We can't afford a single breach."
"Got it. I'll make sure everything's locked down tight," Liam nods.
"Lin, keep gathering intelligence. Marger, fortify defenses."
"Already on it," Lin says, already pulling up data on his tablet.
"I'll assemble our fighters. We won't just rely on strength; we'll outsmart them, too." Drax says, confident.
"I already know who we need: Zetacode, Lycon Wolf, Menace, and Black Cardinal."
Lin stares, surprised. "Just four? We're facing hundreds!"
"No, we've planned this. Quality over quantity. Path Finder and I discussed it. These four are the best at what they do. We'll need them all—each one has something unique."
I take a breath, ready to outline our next steps.
"Zetacode is Leonard Martin, a New York scientist and the fastest man alive. Lycon Wolf, John Brown, a musician turned beast in Los Angeles. Menace, Joseph Lucky, Australia's deputy prime minister, and the most brutal hero on our side. Finally, Black Cardinal, Jessica Quick, the best assassin G.A.L.A.X.Y has ever seen."
Marger leans forward. "What about protecting the civilians?"
"We'll set up a perimeter—control the vulnerable zones. Protect the innocent." I glance at each of them.
"This fight isn't just about strength; it's about survival. We can't afford failure. The stakes are too high."
I pause. The weight of the coming war hangs over us all.
Post-discussion, I retreat to the study, seeking solitude. I close my eyes, grounding myself, meditating to clear my mind. In the quiet of my thoughts, I reach out, traversing the spirit realm—connecting to the cities, the places where the fate of the world will be decided. The storm of war is coming, and we must be ready.
To be continued....