Chapter 10: Hi, My Dear Old Friend

Michael cocked an eyebrow, his eyes going wide.

"April?"

He gripped the RPG warhead tighter.

Minutes later, the driverless Xeon Car descended from the sky, coming to a soft, hovering halt right beside him. Michael popped the trunk and stashed the ammunition inside. He then grabbed the RPG launcher lying on the ground and tossed it onto the back seat.

"Hey, why are you hauling that trash around?" Mora asked, her voice crackling through the Oxy Mark I comms.

"I have a feeling it's going to be important later."

Michael slid into the Xeon Car and strapped himself in tight. The doors and windows sealed automatically, shutting out the noise of the outside world. The engine hummed, a low hiss that quickly rose in pitch as the car lifted off, accelerating sharply into the skyline.

---

Upon reaching the Indi(e)go headquarters, the Xeon Car banked toward the garage. The vehicle lowered its altitude as the garage doors slid open to welcome it. The car glided inside, the whine of the thrusters dying down until the engine cut out completely.

The doors popped open. Michael walked to the trunk and hauled out the RPG. He was drenched in sweat, his body heavy with exhaustion. He peeled off his dirty, dust-coated latex gloves and stuffed them into the right pocket of his suit jacket. His bare hands were slick with perspiration, making the heavy weapon slip as he tried to adjust his grip.

"Need a hand?" Mora asked, leaning against the doorway behind her Oxy Mark I glasses.

"Yeah. Maybe machines are better suited for this part."

Mora giggled.

She immediately issued a command to Kimmy and Timmy. A moment later, the two bots came buzzing into the garage. Michael left the heavy lifting to them and headed for the lift, hitting the button for the first floor.

When he entered Mora's office, he found her furiously typing away at one of the massive monitors. The screen beside it displayed a dizzying array of feeds from hidden CCTVs scattered across every corner of the city. A few of the feeds were static cameras that had already been destroyed.

Michael hung his used latex gloves on a wall hook, dragged a spare chair over to Mora's station, and collapsed into it.

He let out a heavy sigh. Mora glanced at him for a second before her eyes locked back onto the main screen.

"So, how did it feel getting felt up and kissed by a whore? Bet you enjoyed it," Mora teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

"That was the weirdest experience of my life..."

Moments later, Timmy and Kimmy floated into the room, carrying the RPG and its ammo. They set the items down right on Mora's desk.

"Good work, my babies," Mora said, raising her palms. Timmy and Kimmy high-fived her.

The bots settled onto Mora's shoulders, staring at the big screen. Mora dragged her cursor and opened an image file.

Michael leaned in, his expression turning serious. He furrowed his brow.

"Isn't that..."

"Yeah, that's them. The gang you faced. They call themselves the Wizzies. And you know what the most surprising part is?" Mora swiped through several photos captured by her stealth drones. "Turns out, they frequently trade crystal meth with some of the employees at the Santino Casino."

Mora moved the cursor to the search bar and typed in a file name: Spectre-City-Santino-Casino-00.17-6177.bbv

The video opened. It showed a woman, about 163 cm tall, wearing a mask and a short red ponytail. She was standing in a dark, narrow alley meeting with a tall, bulky black man who was completely bald. The woman handed over three medium-sized packets of white powder. The man took out his phone and tapped it against hers to transfer payment.

Then, they kissed briefly. The woman patted the man's head and gave him a playful 'kiss-bye' gesture with a wink. They walked out of the frame, and the recording stopped.

Michael stared deep into the monitor, his hand resting on his chin. For a long moment, he just looked at the static screen in silence.

Mora turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, why are you zoning out?" She nudged his shoulder lightly.

Michael remained stiff, shifting his gaze away without a word.

"It's strange. That ponytail girl... she was begging me to kill her earlier. But in that footage, they looked like they were really enjoying their work."

Mora frowned.

"Well, isn't that normal for whores like them? You think they'd serve their customers with a scowl? They'd lose business that way."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that. But this is too extreme. I mean, how cruel is their boss that these employees who probably can't quitstill have to serve customers with that kind of genuine-looking warmth and sensuality? Usually, they woul-"

"Commit suicide," Mora finished for him.

 "Yeah, if they were that stressed and forced into it, they should be offing themselves. But they aren't. It is weird. It reminds me of the citizens in this fiction book I read. It was set in a made-up country where the population was plummeting, death rates were skyrocketing from severe depression, working hours were insane, and the pay was garbage. Ironically, people from outside that country were dying to move there."

Michael's eyes widened. He turned to Mora.

"What book is that? It might be a good reference for us right now."

"Oh, it's J- Ah, never mind. It's a fictional country. Probably useless as a reference."

Michael rubbed his forehead and let out a short breath.

He glanced around and saw the RPG ammo still sitting on Mora's side table. He picked it up and placed it right next to her keyboard.

Mora squinted at the warhead. She picked it up, holding it directly in front of her face with her right hand, staring at it intensely.

"This is... L-X-832-PPip/video/MmJ.Bbv.Wizzies.com," Mora muttered. Her right hand started typing rapidly while her left hand kept the ammo held high.

Michael frowned, watching her.

"What are you actually reading? Isn't that just an RPG shell with 'Fuck April' written on it?"

Mora hit 'Enter' on her keyboard.

"Yeah, at a glance, that's what the big letters say. But if you look closer, really focus, there are hidden numbers that only show up when the light hits them just right. It takes precision. I realized those numbers were an encryption key for a text string. So... I tried translating it. And when I typed it in, this file popped up."

Mora hit 'Play' on the video that appeared on her monitor.

The footage showed a woman in a black mask with long, jet-black straight hair. She wore a long-sleeved black shirt with an elegant motif across the chest. Her hands were clad in black gloves. She was sitting in a chair, her back turned to the camera.

She spun the chair around slowly. The lights in the room suddenly flared bright. She rested her hands, one over the other, on her chest. Her posture was perfectly straight and calm. The wall behind her was plastered with photos of Michael, arranged in neat, obsessive rows.

Michael's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Damn, how the hell did she get all those photos of me?"

The woman spoke to the camera:

"Mora and Michael Cäcillia. Ah, I'm sure you two are the first ones seeing this. In fact, it's highly likely no one else can open this video but you."

She laughed a soft, unsettling sound that slowly faded into silence.

"So, Mora, Michael... did you enjoy my delivery? Did you know that the head you picked up belonged to one of Indi(e)go's employees, hmm?"

Mora froze. Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open. She slammed her hand down on the desk so hard that the small objects cluttering the surface jumped into the air.

"That bitch! That absolute whore of a dog! Psychopath!" Mora screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the monitor.

Michael tried to calm her down, gesturing for her to sit and watch the rest of the video. Mora sank back into her chair, trying to steady her breathing.

The woman continued speaking:

"Oh, and sorry about that demon child. I know... we know, that you're hiding that fugitive. I could report you to the government, and you could sit quietly behind bars forever. But I held back. I still want to play with you," she said, her voice dropping to a spoiled, teasing tone.

She laughed again. And again, the laughter died down slowly.

"Yes, I am Rossie. The one who sent the letter. The one you've been looking for, right? Now you see me clearly. Are you happy, hmm? My loyal slaves helped you play around in the streets a bit. Did you have fun? I bet you enjoyed playing with them. Hoo... so cute..."

Rossie picked up the camera with her right hand. The video pan showed the walls in the background were absolutely covered in Michael's face. There were Michael action figures on the tables. Her pillows, bedsheets, bolsters, and blankets, all printed with images of Michael.

"Michael, look at this room. It's full of you. I like you, Michael. I LOVE YOU MICHAEL! I even have your posters in my bathroom. Everything is for you, Michael. Hoo... my handsome boy, my darling."

Rossie held up a photo of a younger Michael. In the picture, he was smiling happily, sporting a clean black comma hairstyle. He wore a luxury leather watch, a pristine white shirt with a beige outer layer, and matching trousers and shoes.

Mora looked like she was going to throw up.

"She's got some serious stamina to collect all that. I live next to you every day and I get sick of looking at your face sometimes," Mora quipped.

Michael rolled his eyes, then looked back at the screen, exhaling with exhaustion.

"That photo was when I was in Pal-"

Rossie cut him off, speaking to the camera again.

"I don't ask for anything from you. I already have everything, money, power, beauty, even popularity. Except you... Michael," Rossie said, pointing a finger at the lens.

Michael swallowed hard.

Rossie stroked the photo of Michael she was holding. She turned her head back to the camera.

"Michael, come to my room. Sleep with me. Let's spend the night together, and I'll forget all your sins. I won't bother you anymore. I have this remote in my hand. I could just press this button, and BOOM! The building you're sitting in crumbles to dust, hahaha! But no, I'll give you 24 hours to get here, Michael. The moment this video ends, the countdown begins. I will stop it if you are here with me in this room. If not, the detonator activates, and BOOM! Nothing left but rubble."

Rossie placed the photo back on her desk.

"Besides..."

Rossie reached up and removed her mask. A wide smile stretched across her face. Her heart-shaped lips were coated in bright red lipstick. A small beauty mark dotted her right cheek. Her left eyeball was entirely white and glowing, and the left third of her skull was plated in metal. Her right eye, however, was dark and normal.

"Did you forget this face, Michael? Did you forget your promise? You promised you'd love me if I became normal again, didn't you? Hello, old friend."

Michael was stunned. His eyes widened.

"A-pril...?"