The Night Of The Week of

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[5:38 p.m. Mirrored Gala. Ball Room II.]

Moving gracefully across the dance floor was a beautiful freckled woman dressed in a sequent long gown. Though experts would remark that she was dancing with a stiff posture, seeing as she was wearing a gown that resembled four giant triangular mirrors stacked perpendicular to each other circling around a purple silk dress all under a belt made out of opalescent lilies wrapped around her waist. She twirled around as the music reached its climax, but her glass stilettos cracked against the marbled floor, causing her to fall and the gown to shatter into giant shards.

Elaine Mully sighed as she tip-toed towards the nearby table. She had been practicing their first dance for hours now, yet this was the 5th gown she had broken. The only joyous thing to happen these past few hours was that the gowns, though had a clear sign of deft craftsmanship, were rather inexpensive to make. Plus, it was too time-consuming for Jacques and that, in itself, was a glorious thing.

"Who's difficult to work with now, Mr. I-can-create-million-dollar-gowns-in-under-an-hour?" She muttered as she sat rubbing her reddened toes. Jacques came over earlier to deliver her gown for the wedding reception and three back-up gowns, which were now destroyed.

Ring! Ring!

She guffawed as she answered the phone call, "If you think I won't slap that bitchy French accent out-"

"Hah. Why are you angry again?" Anthony's voice came chuckling out of the phone.

"Damn it. Sorry!" She said.

"What happened? Jacques giving you a hard time?" He asked.

"Not so much as I'm giving him a hard time. So much so that Florence will be delivering gowns from now on." She whispered, biting her lips..

"Come now, Hon. We talked about this." Anthony pleaded in return.

"What did I do? He came in guns blazing, telling me not to stuff Iskanan Kebab in my mouth like a pig."

"While I understand that it may come across as demeaning to you--"

"I ate 10 kebabs once, Anthony. Once!" She roared, interrupting his words.

"We have got to work out our anger issues, Hon. What's our rule?"

"BABBDBB." She said with a scoff. They had many rules in their relationship, most of which were regarding her various unique take on life. Though this one was less appalling than his other rules.

"Say it with me... Be A Bitch, But Don't Burn Bridges."

"Be A Bitch, But Don't Burn Bridges."

Like a Taoist mantra, Anthony and Elaine repeated their rules for half a minute. As they said it one last time, Elaine took a deep breath and released it in one big huff. A sense of calmness pervading her body. Something she only felt whenever Anthony was involved.

"Thank you. Now, what did you say for him to walk out?" Anthony inquired.

"I may have told him to stuff the Eiffel Tower down his ass and crawl back to the socialist puppet state of France."

Elaine heard Anthony's resigned sigh and giggled. Her favourite part of their relationship is his utter resignation to her antics. She knows it's a toxic trait embedded in her through her entitled lifestyle, but the mere fact a man, more so a man with a heroic background such as he, would tolerate and even try to help her phase out said trait was romantic in her eyes.

"We'll talk about when I'm home. Alright. I'll be there by 9. Just finishing up some paperwork and planning."

"Speaking of paperwork, have you told Mishka yet?"

"Not yet. It's hard. We've been partners for half a decade and, even before we did, I trained her. She's kind of..." Anthony trailed off.

"Family?"

"Close to that."

"I know it's hard, baby. But you just gonna rip it like a band-aid."

"Fine. By the way, 'Band-aid'?" Anthony agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"Heard it from a movie."

"Oh god. Mishka and her old movies."

"It's pretty cool, though. You gotta join us sometime."

"Maybe later. I gotta go, babe. We have a meeting."

"Alright. I love you, Pumpkin-pie-scmoochy-gooshy-lovey-dove-dove!"

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[5:40 p.m. The Powered Clubhouse. Command Center I.]

"Jesus fuck, El. You're so weird. I love you too." Anthony bit his lip to stop his already wide grin as he heard her fiancée's voice. He has had a long day cooperating with the city government regarding the gold robbery and the lack thereof. Hearing her voice had somehow soothed his taut nerves. He then hanged up and walked into the Command Center. Leveling a nod to the other people in the room.

"Apologies. Where were we?" He said as he gazed at the identify profiles on the screen.

"Jeremy Walters, director of the South-Eastern Region of the North American Protectorate Guild, had 'graciously' given us permission to bypass through Level 4 intelligence. We now have the identities of former and current members of the Silver Claw mercenaries." Elizabeth explained as she typed on the command console.

"That's his title?" Mishka asked. She was out of her uniform and was now wearing a purple hoodie and a bowling hat.

"He's a dick." Anthony replied.

"Correction. A complete and total asshole." Attorney-general Lockley added in.

Images after images of past and present members of the mercenary group popped up on the screen, their personal information appearing below them. From real names, birthplace, last known location, etc.

AG Lockley, video-calling from a private plane he had chartered, brought up three profiles from the list, "This is Trent Mcmyers, Borislava Tamarava, and Henrik Gonzales. Trent is the group's is high-ranking captain, head of special assault; Borislava is... was a newly recruited member of their Experimental War Tech division; and this, ladies and gentlemen, is Henrik Gonzales, their leader. A powerful Transformer; categorized as Grade 6, Type T"

Anthony's eyes twitched as he stared at Henrik's file. His fists clenched involuntarily as he crossed his arms. "Any known abilities on the other 2?

"Tamarava does not have any confirmed abilities, not that it matters. Mcmyers, on the other hand, is a Grade 8, Spatial Manipulator. He can siphon all material bigger than 1 inch and smaller than 2 feet; he can also store siphoned materials in a separate dimension detected in his stomach which he can eject out at a high velocity." Elizabeth explained.

"Range?" Anthony asked.

"We haven't confirmed the siphoning range yet. Our best guess is 1 meter." Elizabeth answered.

Mishka noticed a distinct lack of a teleporting masked woman and tried to interject only to find Anthony's hand gently tugging back her arm. She looked at Anthony, who almost imperceptibly shook his head. Gears turned in her head as she looked at the screen and back to Anthony before speaking up, "Red Moon. Any files about that?"

Lockley suddenly choked on his drink as she heard her question, his eyes darting towards Anthony, "Nope. No files. Too... uh... classified."

They gave him incredulous looks as he tried to wipe his now wet suit. A level 3 security clearance would mean only the president or a major department head could read and declassify the files and there had been only three occasions where those people had used their clearance level; the aftermath of the destruction of Texas, the death of Morningstar, and on the behest of seventeen international communities following a corruption expose that led to the expulsion of all the current senators. Essentially, for them to use it, it has to be a high-profile case or could destabilize the very foundation of the government.

"Male. Brown Hair. 6' foot tall. Grade 7 Enhancer. KIA. Last seen inside the ruins of Tripoli, Lebanon." Anthony provided the information unprompted, which earned him a couple of curious glance and a glare from Lockley.

"Fuck's sake, Tony. You realize you've just committed treason again?" Lockley said, exasperation evident in his voice.

"Again? Nevermind, but the one we encountered was a teleporter?" Mishka said.

"The original Red Moon must have died or left the group. If it's a teleporter, then we should consult the UrJiVek Treaty." Lockley said ending the conversation. Elizabeth's hands contorted as she scrolled through the Silver Claw files looking for Red Moon only to find an empty file folder.

"Alrighty. Then any probable motive for robbing Biefurt Trust?" Mishka asked.

"None yet. Though we suspect that Duffy and Liger were involved in their robbery. The robbers used Silver Dawn's blood as bullet enhancers. They also used corrupted OmniSyde tech." McCuish answered. He was the odd man out in the group of people, seeing as his government clearance was barely level six.

"What steps have the police department made in tracking them?" Elizabeth asked as she removed the identity profiles and brought out a map of Biefurt City.

Biefurt is located on the ruins of Chincoteague; 143 kilometers (89 miles) south of Dover, Delaware. Although Metronome destroyed half of the island beyond repair, the city's founder had employed the Avian Society to raise the sea bed to compensate for the damage. Now, Biefurt resembled a gigantic duck with its bill-like port.

"Hm... Our CIs pointed us to a hotel: Heaven's Peak. 2 people checked in a royal suite. A dark-skinned man, mid-40s, left eyepatch, a grey bionic right arm; and a woman of Asian descent, silver-tipped black hair, and wearing a shit-ton of jewelry. The names at the register are Liger and Hoshito Ayika." McCuish read off a piece of paper he took out of his coat,

"So they're barely hiding their traces?" AG Lockley asked in confusion.

"They're waiting for us to arrest them. They've been on the run since Silver Dawn escaped her capture and might want to make a big splash before they die." McCuish theorized.

"They probably think that nobody in the city knows they're here or they know that no one in the city could take them on seeing as they evaded the Marshalls for half a decade." Anthony retorted.

"Alright. Then we take them out fast. I could fly up their suite and blow up the room. That'll give police time to isolate the perimeter and evacuate the hotel guest and staff. Then Anthony and Elizabeth will enter the room and help me deal with Duffy and Liger." Mishka stood up from her seat as she explained her plan. She moved the map to show the area around the hotel.

As Elizabeth was about to interrupt, Anthony asked his question first, "What about our back-up?"

She smiled at him and continued, "See here? That's an alley a few meters away and we could set up a portable honing surface-to-surface missile in case they still have a corrupted Omni Suit. That right there? Is an abandoned bakery that was used to be owned by the Irish mafia. They replaced all the glass with bulletproof once, so it'll help us take cover for their SD blood bullets. I heard from Tiffany that Kobalt is staying with his mistress in the same hotel so he can help in tanking the bullets. The Club handles the targets while the police and Kobalt keep the civilians safe. Easy peasy and bob's your uncle!"

The people in the room stared awestruck at Mishka as Anthony drank a glass of water with a proud smile adorned his face.

"So... are we set?" Mishka asked, her brows raised in expectation.

"Not completely, but we can build off a more... complete tactics from your plan." Elizabeth politely turned down her plan. She then looked at Anthony, who just shrugged in response.

Lt. McCuish suddenly cleared his throat and said, "We might have a problem. There were 36 casualties during the robbery, most of whom were our SWAT. The mayor is reluctant to waste more of the city's manpower on enhanced fights."

"And is that supposed to be our problem, Lieutenant Detective?" AG Lockley asked pointedly.

"No, it's not. But the mayor does insist that the casualties during the robbery--" McCuish tried to backpedal, only to be interrupted by Mishka.

"--was caused by your idiocy and corruption?" She said.

"You weren't even there, paper bag!" He barked.

"Fuck you, Braveheart!" She retorted.

"I'm not fucking Irish!" He replied.

"Shut up." Anthony ordered.

"So we don't have police back-up for this operation. What about the National Guard?" Elizabeth asked.

"The DoD have advised Major General Sanders to stay put in Fort Delaware. A Tartarus sleeper cell has poisoned a nearby town's water supply; killing almost 400 residents. There might be another attack." AG Lockley informed the group.

Anthony's eyes widened when he heard AG Lockley. "When?"

"Ah... 3 days ago." His tone of voice seems to startle Lockley.

"So a century-old criminal organization activated a sleeper agent in a seemingly unimportant town. Then a couple who captured a Grade-6, Type-M enhanced and corrupted an OmniSyde power suit rolled into town and sold said power suit to a mercenary group, connected to at least 3 government agencies, who just robbed the country's foremost bank." He expounded as he donned a serious expression on his face.

"I get point 2 and 3, but the first one? Tartarus has been active in the middle east, sure, but not the American con—fucking Silver Claw!" Lockley facepalmed as he remembered the mercenary group's last known location, "disregarding the obvious location connection, Tartarus could just rob the bank themselves. They have hundreds of enhanced powerful enough to flatten the bank in seconds."

"So they're not after the gold then." Elizabeth said as she typed on the command console, bringing up a digital scan of a newspaper, "they hijacked 'The Famous Everest Trails' a few days ago. The Tibetan authorities suspect that the Council of Tartarus was involved. Well, it was either them or China, but they're embroiled in a civil war."

"Still? How's long that been going on?" Mishka asked, before shuddering at the thought of a unified China.

"Eh. Give or take 80 years." Elizabeth calculated. Nobody was exactly sure about the length of the civil war.

"At least Al-Sayyid's finished with their tantrums." AG Lockley chuckled.

"Get. On. Topic." Anthony butted in. He furrowed his brows in annoyance and asked, "How they could be connected?"

"They shouldn't. Silver Claw is too small for Tartarus, even for a proxy battle." Lockley came up with an answer in a second. He had seen Tartarus' previous operations and most, if not all, of them involves large amounts of manpower, something the mercenary group didn't have.

"Maybe someone else owned a portion of the gold? Like the Snow Elks?" Mishka played off another theory, "They might be trying to cut off the enemy's logistics."

"The Elks' usually operated in Canadian Republic and the mid-west. Too far even for them." Anthony's answer immediately discarded her theory, "Anyone else?"

Anthony's question remained unanswered as none of them came up with a theory that would fit the puzzle.

"Alright. As team leader-" Elizabeth took charge and began ordering.

"Acting team leader!" Mishka interrupted, a goofy smile on her face.

"Team. Leader. Lockley, please contact Kobalt or his manager and see if he's willing to take a contract..."

"I'll handle it." Lockley assured.

"... McCuish, I trust the police could, at the very least, keep a surveillance team on-site? We don't want them leaving town..."

"We can do that, Ma'am!" McCuish saluted instinctively, his face flushing red in embarrassment.

"... Mishka, check your contacts if they've heard about Tartarus gossip. Although there's no obvious connection, we can never be too careful...:

"Oh good! Like I need more excuses to have coffee with Bigmouth Bethany." Mishka rolled her eyes.

"... And, Tony..."

"Yeah?"

"You need to go home. Your wedding is in a week. There's been enough reunion for today."

"Alright! You sure you can handle this?" He asked, worried. He knew it had run Elizabeth ragged as she handled the possible fallout of his resignation.

"Very. Now, everyone leave!" Elizabeth ordered as she grabbed Mishka and left the room.

"I'll go back to the station and probably get whined over by the Mayor." McCuish laughed wryly as he too left the room.

The Attorney-general's solemn stare quickly stopped Anthony from leaving the room.

"Anthony." Lockley looked at Anthony with a serious look.

"Heh. Yes, Ian?" Anthony chuckled, as he knew the look his old friend gave.

"I had a talk with your father-"

"I have no father." He interrupted.

"Semantics, Anthony. He told me you're retiring?" Ian Lockley asked as a worried tone slipped through his serious government façade.

"Yes, I am. I submitted the form a month ago." Anthony said.

"I know. I'm talking about the serum. What do you mean you're not taking it anymore? Do you know what'll happen to you?" Lockley's tone grew higher and flared nostril.

"I know."

"Then why are you still doing it?"

"Because A) I'm fucking tired and have been for 19 years. My work experience is now shooting acid in his own boot camp, Ian; and B) I love Elaine so much. I want to give my all to her. And I can't do that when I don't even know if I'll go home alive every night." He smiled at Lockley as he explained his argument. He had known some of his 'knowledgeable' friends would make a fuss about his retirement.

"Huh. I can't convince you, can I?" Lockley pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a resigned sigh.

"Nope." Anthony grinned.

"Aren't you... scared? I mean, you can't quit cold turkey. We don't exactly have a vaccine for enhancement serum addiction?" Lockley joked.

"I am. Terrified. Sometime I wake up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares..." Anthony sat down and palmed his face as he let out his thoughts.

"Nightmares?" Lockley asked. Before the president appointed him as Attorney General, he was a counsellor for retired heroes and enhanced soldiers. And the one thing they had in common was their fear of helplessness. The frailty of a withering hero. Like any other organs or bodies, the powers and abilities of enhanced or gene breakers, as the new-age bio-geneticist likes to say, decay and, on the worst occasions, turn off abruptly. Even the sorcerers of the Avian Society, whom gets their abilities from their mutated organs, does not survive the passage of time.

"It always starts the same way. I'm in the bedroom, alone and cold. The windows open and the breeze is coming in. I tried to feel for Elaine but can't find her. Then I hear the scream. Sometimes it's Elaine, Valerie, and even my fucking mother. I tried to run after her, whoever she was, but the shadows... dear god, the shadows. It's like it's alive. Wriggling in the darkness, trying to speak to me. Telling me to save myself from the horror on the other side of the scream, but I don't heed them. I run and run, then they try to grab me. grappling my arms and legs and stop me from moving. They tear wounds and seep into my body. I can't escape them. I don't escape them. The scream intensifies, and for the last time, it goes again. This time higher, rougher, the pain more revealing. Then I wake up." He wiped the tears that dampened his face.

"Have you talked about it with Elaine?" Lockley inquired.

"Yeah. She told me we could always hire an enhanced to protect us 24/7. I just... I don't know... Just gotta get a handle on all this shit. Maybe it takes time." Anthony's eyes grew clearer, quickly hiding the inexplicable feeling that arose in his chest.

"Possibly. Fuck's sake, you've been on it since you were 14. You'll be alright." Lockley said.

"Yeah!" Anthony agreed, much more enthused than earlier, "By the way, you mentioned my so-called father?"

"Oh, yeah! He's gonna come in 2 days."

"What!?"

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[06:11 p.m. Mirrored Gala. Ball Room II. Balcony.]

"You. Heard. Me. You are going to come to your only daughter's fucking wedding!" Elaine screamed in to her phone's speaker. Her face contorted in willful anger; her eyes squinted to roll back her tears.

"And I have told you, many times in fact, that you still have an unwed sister." A deep voice reverberated from Elaine's phone. Her father.

"Oh, please. The only way she'll ever get married is if Moscow gets a law that allows you to marry a goddamn tiger!" She screamed her heart out, startling a nest of peacocks in the backyard.

"Elaine Josephine Mullberg! You know your sister is just getting over her last boyfriend," her father said.

"Who you tried to kill!" she roared.

"Because he was stealing millions, pumpkin."

"Do. Not. Call. Me. That."

"Why not? Look, it's not that I don't want to go, but there's going to be a ton of heroes and government lackeys in your wedding."

"So? Don't tell me you can't spend 2 fucking hours sitting still for my wedding?"

"Well, no--"

"That was a rhetorical question!"

"How dare you take that tone with me, young lady!?"

"Oh. oh. oh. You wanna know why I dare?"

"Josephine?"

"I dare because if you don't come to my... our wedding, then you'll never see nor touch your grandchild."

"What!? You... Josephine, are you pregnant?"

"Oh, you misunderstand, daddy. Anthony and I have been putting this off, but now... now I have decided that we will not be bringing a child into this world. That's right. No babies for you to hold, cuddle, or even adore. No grandchild that will someday inherit your empire. Do you want that, daddy?" She taunted dangerously.

"I... hah... I'll come over in a few days. But only for the wedding reception. Understood!"

"Oh, see. That wasn't too hard, right?" She giggled.

"Why you-"

"I'm kidding. Geez. Thank you so much for agreeing. Anthony and I will really love having you here. In fact, Anthony will pick you up from the airport. Ta-ta!" She immediately hung up as she looked at her husband-to-be with a coy smile.

"Really?" Anthony groaned as he delicately crossed the dance floor, barely evading the glass shards that littered the ground.

"Pretty please?" She smiled, purposely showing her dimples.

Anthony chuckled and took her in his arms. Hugging her tightly as he caressed her abdomen. Elaine, sensing his tense mood, snuggled up in his arms and enjoyed his warmth and presence.

"You wanna?" Anthony said as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, gently kissing the side of her neck. His hands wandered from her abdomen to her left breast, tenderly squeezing it.

Elaine moaned as she reciprocated and grasped the bulge in his pants. "Yeah... let's make good on our promise."

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[6:22 p.m. Mirrored Gala. Master Bedroom.]

Anthony kneaded Elaine's ass as she straddled him atop their bed. Her hands roamed around his back, desperately finding the hem of his shirt. She softly moaned into his ears as she found it and urged him to remove it.

"We should probably remove our clothes before we got hot and heavy." Anthony suggested, unbuttoning his own shirt. They had been dry-humping for five minutes now without even removing their main clothing article.

Elaine bit her lip as her hands went to his belt, quickly unbuckling it. She then buried her face into his bulge, unceremoniously biting his zipper down and taking out his stiff cock.

"Look at you? So stiff and stressed. Don't worry, I'll handle your stress balls~" She licked the underside of his dick. Her saliva dampening the erect cock as she took his balls in his mouth. Anthony muffled a moan as she gurgled his sack, her tongue snaking around.

Elaine released his balls as he began bucking his hips, a clear sign of his burgeoning orgasm. She caressed his something with her finger as she teased him with utter delight. "Uh-uh! Not yet, baby."

She continued licking up and down her shaft as she wriggled her shapely ass where Anthony could appreciate it. He did, in fact, appreciate it as he patted her hair, which urged a more vigorous lick from her.

"That's my girl!" He egged on, eliciting a sensuous twitch from her body, "But I need more than that."

She assented as she smeared a globule of spit on his dick before gently placing her mouth at his tip. Anticipation was visible in her eyes as she slowly opened her mouth and took his dick in.

Anthony helped her as his petting hand nuzzled her head, guiding her way to pleasure him. He watched as her luscious lips sliding down his shaft before reaching his trimmed pubes. Her throat bulged as she twirled around his cock before letting it out with a pop. A string of saliva connecting the head of bis dick with her lips.

"Look at it. Nice and wet-"She giddily looked at him, clearly fishing for a compliment only to find his man's gaze wandering in a far off direction, "What's the matter, baby?"

Her voice seemed to shake his wandering thoughts as he let out a sigh and sat beside her. "I'm sorry--"

Elaine hushed him with a gentle kiss, "Don't apologize. Tell met what's bothering you."

"Right, sorry-- Ok!" He laughed wryly, "I had a talk with Ian."

"Oh. About retirement?" She asked worriedly, still holding on to his dick.

"Yeah. He was worried I'd go through withdrawal symptoms." He recalled their conversation, a tired smile appearing on his face.

She closed her eyes and stopped pumping his cock. Her body then fell into him, which he caught and cuddled with.

"Are you sure you wanna do this, baby?" She asked with the barest of whispers. She snuggled closer to him, feeling his soft breath on her head.

"Yeah, I am. I want to wake up every morning knowing full well that I'll lie beside you when we sleep again." He responded as he smelled her blond hair. Coconut oil, he thought while stroking his nose in it.

She opened her eyes and removed herself from his embrace. She turned towards him and cupper his face with her hands as she promised with rosy cheeks, "I love you so much and will do so every morning when we wake up in bed and when we sleep at night!"

"You're so mushy." He joshed as he let them fall atop the bed. The warmth of their bodies neutralized the cliff side breeze sweeping across the mansion.

"That's what you love about me, isn't it?" She said like an all-knowing deity of relationships.

He chuckled, "That and your insatiable lust for barbequed meat."

"How dare you?" She guffawed, "I love all kinds of meat."

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